


Publications

by flawedamythyst



Series: Complications [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild torture, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Avengers vs the media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 91,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8188733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: After the events of Complications, Bucky's settling into being part of the team and Clint's settling into having a soulmate, which would be a lot easier if the media would just leave them both alone.Also, someone's stalking Clint, which just seems like a weird life choice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic is complete, I just need to edit each chapter before posting, so it should be all up in the next few weeks.

Rhodey gave Clint a lift down from his perch once the last giant sewer rat had been killed.

"Well, that was pretty fucking disturbing," said Clint to the others as they gathered around the corpse to catch their breaths. Bucky looked fine, other than a bit of dirt scuffed along his metal arm. He gave Clint a questioning lift of his eyebrow that Clint returned with a quick nod. 

Clint wanted go over to him, just to touch him and make sure he was still okay, but he kept his distance. There were three media helicopters circling overhead and at least four more reporters filming from just behind the police barricade at the end of the street so they were all having to be very PR-conscious, which meant not making out with his secret soulmate just yet.

"I'm pretty sure these bastards are going to feature in my next nightmare," agreed Natasha.

"Rats the size of ponies," said Wanda, shaking her head. "They were terrifying enough on their own, did they really need the glowing red eyes as well?"

Rhodey winced. "Don't."

"I'm guessing we're not mentioning the smell," said Steve.

"Not if you value your life," said Natasha.

Wanda gave a shudder. “I'm going to be scrubbing myself down with disinfectant when we get back.”

Clint grinned. "Suddenly, I'm really glad to have been five storeys up for the whole thing."

"I'm even more glad to be in a hermetically sealed environment," said Rhodey. Clint noticed that he hadn't opened his faceplate like he usually would once a fight was over.

"I've smelt worse," said Bucky, giving one of his little shrugs that meant _you'll never understand the horrors I've seen._

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "If you're talking about Clint's socks, then I wholeheartedly agree."

"Hey!" protested Clint. "My socks are perfumed delight."

Bucky snorted. "I don't know which perfume you're thinking of, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't sell very well."

Steve glanced over his shoulder at the barricade, where more press were gathering now that the danger had passed. "I'm gonna have to talk to the cameras. Who's coming with me?"

There was a universal silence. Clint did his best to inch behind Rhodey without drawing attention to himself in any way.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. This is an easy one: obvious bad guys, no civilian injuries, not even that much collateral damage. We've just got to smile and give a couple of soundbites."

Bucky snorted. "When did you become the PR guru?" Oh man, rookie error. Clint really should have warned him not to draw attention to himself when Cap was looking for a victim to throw to the media vultures.

Steve gave him a cheerful smile. "Well volunteered, Bucky. You're coming with me."

Bucky gave him a horrified look. "What? Oh, no. No, come on, no one wants to see me on their TV screen. I thought you were looking for good PR?"

"It's time you started doing more than glaring at the press," said Steve. "You're never going to change your profile if you never interact, you know?"

"No, I don't know," said Bucky. "What the hell language are you talking?"

Steve put an arm around his shoulder and started to pull him in the direction of the cameras. "Don't worry, you won't even have to smile. Just try not to look like you're going to kill anyone, answer a couple of questions without swearing or threatening to break bones, and don't mention Clint."

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Clint with a terrified look. Clint gave him the smuggest grin he could manage and a thumbs up.

"Okay, this is going to be comedy gold," he said once Bucky and Steve were out of earshot. "Viewing party once we're back at the base, right?"

Natasha nodded. "Shots every time it looks like someone is about to be eviscerated."

"I think someone will definitely die if Bucky finds out you're doing a drinking game based on him," said Rhodey.

"Nah, it'll be fine," said Clint. "He loves me, remember?"

"He doesn't love Natasha," Wanda pointed out.

Clint shrugged. "Yeah, okay, but do I really need her now I've got a new favourite assassin?"

Natasha gave him a cold smile. "I know where a lot of your bodies are buried, Barton," she reminded him.

Clint made a face but nodded agreement, glancing over at where he could see Bucky hovering behind Steve as the reporters threw questions at them. He slid his finger down inside his bracer to touch his print. Bucky was flooded with nervousness but there was a layer of forced composure over the top that meant he was holding it together.

Rhodey dug a hard, metal elbow into Clint's side. "Watch it," he said. "That's not as subtle as you seem to think, and there are cameras everywhere right now."

"I might have an itch," said Clint, pulling his finger out.

Rhodey snorted. "Oh yeah, you've got an itch all right."

"You know, just because you're Iron Man 2.0 doesn't mean you have to torture us with Tony's brand of bad jokes," said Clint.

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. "Okay, just for that, I'm not stopping Steve from giving you the talk about respect for your team members when he finds out about your little drinking game."

"Are you kidding?" said Clint. "He'll be joining in.”

****

The minute they were back on the quinjet and out of sight of the press, Bucky put both his hands on Clint's shoulders. "You're sure you're fine?"

"Totally fine," said Clint. "Come on, I know I'm a bit clutzy, but even I can shoot at giant rats from the top of a building without getting hurt."

Natasha made a sceptical sound and he glared at her over Bucky's shoulder, then leaned in to kiss him. "You're the one that was getting close enough to punch them in the face," he pointed out.

Bucky shrugged. "Metal arm," he pointed out. He held it up between them. "One of them tried to bite it off, but he just chipped a tooth."

"Wait, that's been inside the mouth of a giant rat, and you thought it would be okay to touch me with it?" said Clint. He took a long step back. "No way. No more touching until you've showered in disinfectant. I mean, come on. They were mutant rats! What if their saliva turns me into some kind of weird human-rat hybrid?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "What are the chances of that?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask Spider-Man?" snapped back Clint.

"Hands up if you're now kinda hoping Clint does turn into a weird human-rat hybrid," said Rhodey. Most of the hands in the jet went up.

"Such betrayal!" said Clint, clutching at his heart. "I thought you were my friends."

"Chill, would you?" said Bucky. "It's just sewer rat spit. It'll probably just give you the plague."

"Oh, that's really fucking reassuring," said Clint.

"If it helps, one of them kinda slobbered on me, so you won't be the only one," said Steve.

Clint glared at him. "Willing to lay bets on whether the super-soldier or the regular guy is more likely to end up dying of the plague?"

Steve just gave him a shrug. "We'll make sure you have a really nice funeral."

"No," said Bucky, turning to glare at Steve. "No one's allowed to talk about Clint's funeral. Not even as a joke." He stepped closer to Clint, taking his hand.

Clint gave his fingers a bit of a squeeze. "It's okay, I'm gonna live forever."

"Damn straight you are," said Bucky.

****

Sam was waiting for them at the quinjet pad when they got back to base, clearly chaffing at not having been able to come with them. Steve took him in his arms and gave him a long kiss, and Clint wondered just how much longer it would be before Sam told the medics to go fuck themselves and came out with them. It couldn't be much longer; if it had been Clint, he'd have been out with the team weeks ago.

Of course, Clint would also likely have re-injured himself and been yelled at by a whole host of people. No one said his life choices were worth imitating.

Bruce wasn't waiting for them, but Clint noted Natasha heading in the direction of his lab rather than to her rooms once they got inside.

Bruce had been given his own lab in the rebuilt Avengers Base, although it was designated on the plans as part of the medical facility. He spent most of his time in there, working on something highly complicated that Clint didn't understand but seemed to be related to attempting to reverse the effects of various forms of radiation.

Officially, of course, no one had any idea where he was, they hadn't seen him in months, and he definitely didn't have any contact with them.

Back in their suite, Bucky took the first shower on the basis that he was the one that had been chewed on by a giant sewer rat. Clint went through his weapons while he was waiting for his turn, noting that he was going to need to get Tony to send him some more explosive arrows, and maybe a couple more grappling ones as well. He was trying to use them less these days because he might be the moron who came back to active duty after having retired, but he could at least try and save his body from the consequences of too many feats of insane acrobatics. Even if they were loads of fun.

Bucky came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, which made Clint put down his quiver and just enjoy the view for a moment. Bucky caught his look and rolled his eyes.

"See something you like?"

"Always," said Clint. "You didn't mention the bruise, though."

Bucky glanced down at the dark bruise that had formed on his side, stretching up half his body, and shrugged. "It'll be gone by tomorrow."

Clint walked over to him and carefully ran his hand over it. "Doesn't mean I don't want to know if you're hurt. I mean, you'd want to know if I was, right?"

Bucky frowned. "You're not, are you?" He glanced over Clint as if he'd be able to see through his clothes.

"You're proving my point," said Clint.

Bucky let out a long breath, then put his arms around Clint. "Yeah, okay," he said. "It's just, it's pretty much nothing. A rat threw me into a dumpster."

"Man, it's shit like that that makes me realise just how classy you are," said Clint, kissing him.

Bucky snorted. "Like you wouldn't have ended up in a dumpster if you'd been at ground level."

"I might not have," said Clint. "I might just have ridden the rat like a bucking bronco."

"You're a circus brat, not a rodeo cowboy," Bucky reminded him, his hands moving down to rest on Clint's hips before he gave them a squeeze and stepped away. "And at the moment, you're a circus brat that smells of sweaty body armour."

"You mean, Eau d'Avenger?" said Clint, stripping off his outer layer as he headed towards the bathroom. "We should bottle it. Just the kind of merchandise we could make millions on."

"I really, really don't think we could," said Bucky as Clint shut the bathroom door behind himself. Nah, he was wrong. Who wouldn't want to smell like a superhero who'd just gone ten rounds with a pony-sized rat?

****

The full version of Steve and Bucky's interview was up on Youtube long before they'd all showered, changed and got settled in the main lounge with popcorn and beer.

"I don't see why we have to watch this," muttered Bucky as Clint pulled him down onto the sofa.

Clint patted at his knee. "Because we're showing support for your efforts to rehabilitate yourself with the public," he said. "Or something."

"Because you want to laugh at me," said Bucky, sounding disgruntled.

"I tell you what, we'll watch the first interview Clint did after this," said Natasha. "He told a reporter that his favourite part of being an Avenger was the free weapons. It took us a month to pull back from the 'the Avengers are all weapons-obsessed psychopaths' story."

"I was just kidding," said Clint. "Is it my fault if they didn't get my sense of humour?"

"I'm not sure anyone gets your sense of humour," said Rhodey.

Clint shrugged. That wasn't his problem, it just meant that everyone else was missing out. His jokes were awesome.

“Is Bruce coming up?” he asked Natasha.

Her mouth twisted and she shook her head briefly. Bruce seemed determined to keep away from communal events, so much so that Clint had only seen him a handful of times since they'd all moved back onto the base. If he wasn't locked up in his lab, he was in the suite that he and Natasha shared.

Clint wasn't sure if there was something going on there that they should be trying to fix or not. Back when the Avengers had been living in Stark Tower, before Sokovia, Bruce had come along to most things and only occasionally holed up in his lab with an experiment. Maybe he just didn't feel welcome now he wasn't an active member of the team, which was bullshit, or perhaps he just preferred his own space and had only joined in before because he'd thought he had to. Which was also bullshit. You shouldn't have to socialise unless you wanted to, especially not with a group that included Tony Stark.

Steve came in, the last to arrive, and sat down in the space Sam had saved for him. "Thanks for waiting," he said. "I think you guys are going to enjoy this."

Bucky let out a quiet sigh. Clint took his freshly-showered, non-rat salivaed hand in his and pulled it into his lap. "Okay, roll it."

The interview started with Steve giving a brief statement about the rats with Bucky hovering behind him, alternately glaring at everyone and then remembering that he wasn't meant to be glaring and smoothing his face out into the sort of blank expression that Clint had a feeling was left over from his time with Hydra.

 _"-the man who caused the rats to mutate in this matter is currently in custody, and we don't foresee any further incidents of this nature,"_ finished Steve. _"Are there any questions?"_

There were. They started out mostly related to the rats:

_"Are there any public health issues that locals should be aware of?"_

_"How long do the authorities think it will take to remove all the bodies?"_

_"Has the culprit expressed any motivation for this attack?"_

Steve answered them all with his usual brevity, directing them to the other agencies as much as he could, and then the reporters started to grow bored of giant rats and the questions became less focused.

_"Are you looking forward to the reception the Mayor of Chicago is holding for you?"_

_"Of course,"_ said Steve. _"It's a great honour and we really appreciate the gesture. I know I speak for the whole team when I say we're looking forward to getting our glad rags on and doing a bit of dancing."_

"You're not speaking for me," said Natasha.

"Glad rags?" said Rhodey. "Seriously?"

 _"Winter Soldier, are you going to be attending too?"_ called one of the reporters.

On-screen, Bucky had frozen. Clint was able to tell that he was freaking out but to a casual observer, he probably looked more like he was plotting the reporter's death. Well, okay, so he might have been doing that as well.

There was a long pause, during which Steve kept his smile on and everyone just waited in silence.

Bucky's shoulders flexed in a way that Clint knew meant he was clenching his fists below the bottom of the camera.

 _"I guess,"_ he said.

There was a pause while everyone waited for more, and then the reporter followed up with, _"Are you going to do any dancing?"_

Bucky glanced at Steve, who was keeping his pleasant smile on with what looked like a force of enormous willpower.

 _"Uh, maybe,"_ said Bucky.

"Oh wow, this is gold," said Sam, gleefully.

Bucky made a humiliated noise and turned to press his face against Clint's shoulder. Clint gently patted his head but didn't take his eyes away from the Bucky on screen, who had lowered his head just enough for his hair to fall around his face, making him look even more like a serial killer.

 _"Bucky always used to love dancing when we were young,"_ said Steve to the reporters. _"I'm sure we'll get him dancing on Saturday."_

"Over my dead body," muttered Bucky into Clint's shoulder.

 _"How are you finding being on the team?"_ asked another reporter, who clearly had some kind of sadist streak.

Bucky blinked at her. _"It's fine,"_ he said. He jolted.

"I had to kick him," Steve explained to the rest of the room. "Seriously, Bucky, you need to give more than one word answers."

"'It's fine' is two words," said Bucky, sulkily.

On screen, he was clearly trying to come up with something else to say. _"It's good to have back-up,"_ he added.

 _"It must be great to be fighting alongside Captain America again,"_ persisted one of the reporters in the face of what seemed like overwhelming odds.

Bucky blinked, glanced at Steve as if he'd never seen him before, and shrugged. _"Sure."_

Steve stepped in with a smile that was starting to look a bit strained. _"It's great to have Bucky watching my back again. We're still able to work together just as well as we used to in the '40s."_

 _“What's it like having your friend back after thinking he was dead?"_ asked one particularly tactless reporter.

"Oh man," said Sam, shaking his head as he took Steve's hand.

On screen, Steve gave her a glare. _"It's real swell."_

 _"Which of the other Avengers are you getting on with best?"_ another reporter asked Bucky, clearly trying to move the interview on before Steve lost his temper and walked away. Bucky's eyes went wide with panic. 

Clint started to snigger under his breath and earned himself a light thump from Bucky's hand.

"Shut up," he said. "I was trying to work out how not to say you."

On screen, Bucky was clearly becoming aware of the lengthening pause. _"Black Widow's fighting style is extremely efficient,"_ he said, in a rush.

"Why, thank you," said Natasha, as at least three other people in the room groaned.

"Did no one tell you that you were meant to _not_ be sounding like a psychopath?" asked Rhodey.

"We're going to get another bunch of news stories about how we're all dangerous maniacs," said Wanda, with a sigh.

"At least you're not going to be highlighted as the most dangerous anymore," said Clint, petting Bucky's hair. "Nope, that'll be Crazy Eyes Barnes, lover of women with efficient fighting styles."

"Shuddup," mumbled Bucky.

"Shh," said Sam. "We're missing it."

On screen, the reporters were clearly close to giving up, but one of them rallied. _"What's your favourite thing about now compared to when you were growing up?"_

Steve made a face. "I hate that question."

"I'm just hoping he doesn't say semi-automatic assault rifles," said Rhodey.

"I do really like semi-automatic assault rifles," said Bucky, thoughtfully.

On screen, Bucky took a deep breath and blurted out, " _Dog Cops._ "

Clint cracked up.

 _"Um,"_ said one of the reporters. _"The TV show?"_

Bucky fixed her with a glare. _"Yep,"_ he replied with a note of challenge in his voice.

 _"O-kay,"_ said Steve to the reporters, putting his arm on Bucky's shoulder. _"I think that's all we've got time for right now. It was great talking to you."_

He led Bucky away and the clip cut off.

"Oh man," said Clint. "That was even better than I'd hoped." Something hard and pointy jabbed into his side and he squirmed away, still sniggering. " _Dog Cops_ is the best thing about the 21st century. I mean, I can't really argue the point."

Bucky pushed him over against the sofa, continuing to poke his metal finger into Clint's stomach as he crawled over him. Clint tried to fend him off, but it was tricky when he was laughing so hard.

"It's not like I did media training or whatever, like the Man With The Plan did,” said Bucky. “Back then, we just needed to be able to fight."

"Welcome to the modern world," said Sam. "It involves way too many reporters."

"Okay,” said Wanda, who'd been tapping at her phone. “Google is showing seven articles debating whether or not you're a psychopath, four claiming you and Natasha are in love, and the show runner for _Dog Cops_ has tweeted to say that any Avengers who are fans are welcome to visit the set."

"Oh!" said Clint, sitting up so fast that he nearly dislodged Bucky. "Steve."

"No," said Steve.

"Aw, please?" said Clint. "I'll do all the crappy charity things you want me to do for a month."

"Charity isn't crappy," said Steve, "and no one is going on a set tour just because Bucky's rubbish at interviews."

"Aw, but, we could meet Sergeant Whiskers!" said Clint, clinging to Bucky's shirt with excitement.

"Sergeant Whiskers isn't a real person," said Steve.

"There are three dog actors who play him, called Tucker, Max and Gaston," said Wanda. The room swivelled to stare at her and she cleared her throat. "I don't mind going with Clint if you want someone who isn't Bucky to go."

"No one is going to the _Dog Cops_ set," said Steve, firmly. "We're not taking advantage of our celebrity like that."

"Aw," said Clint, collapsing back. "But..."

"No," said Steve.

Bucky leaned in and kissed Clint, which only did a small amount to make him feel better.

****

The next day there was an unscheduled Avengers meeting, which Clint stupidly wasn't suspicious about until he walked into the conference room and saw Erika waiting for them. He let out a loud groan.

She sent him a shark-like grin. "Good to see you too, Clint."

"You know," he said, taking a step back out of the door, "I just remembered I was meant to be-"

"Get in here and sit down," ordered Cap.

Clint felt his shoulders deflate. He headed inside and sat down at the table. Bucky followed him in and sat down next to him, giving Steve a raised eyebrow.

"This is Erika Daniels," said Steve. "She's in charge of our PR."

Bucky stared at him, then turned to look at her. "PR," he repeated, dumbly.

"It's a pretty thankless task, but someone's got to do it," she said. "Controlling the public's image of you is crucial."

The other Avengers had all arrived, settling around the table with as much enthusiasm as Clint felt. Erika gave them all a grin that said she knew exactly how much they hated this stuff and she didn't care.

"Okay, guys," she said, once they were all sat and Steve had shut the door in a pointed manner. "I've got three things to go through today. The first is that I won't accept any excuses for anyone not going to the reception this Saturday."

There was a general groan. Erika glared around at them all. "You will all be there," she said, very slowly and clearly. "Tuxedos and posh frocks and big, smiling faces. It's been too long since the last public event, we need some exposure. Plus, you're the guests of honour, it would be rude not to be there."

"We'll all be there," said Steve. "It's very kind of the mayor to organise it." He sent them all a stern look.

"Oh yeah, not as if it's going to boost his profile at all," muttered Clint, and got a glare from both Steve and Erika. He slumped in his seat. Captain America glares he could just about handle now, after years of exposure, but Erika was terrifying.

She cleared her throat and looked back around the table. “Also, we're coming up on five years since the Avengers were founded, so a couple of places have asked if they can do features. I've agreed that a camera crew from CNN can come over here to film some bits for a special documentary.”

“Oh god, shoot me now,” muttered Natasha.

Rhodey raised his hand, “Uh, surely that's only going to be for the founding members, though. I mean, it's not my five year anni-”

“You will all be here,” snapped Erika. “Founding members, new guys, everyone who isn't currently on another planet or in hiding from the international community.”

Which meant she'd somehow talked Tony into it. Clint would feel sorry for him, but he really did make his own bed with this stuff. He'd always figured the best thing about being a genius billionaire was the chance to be a _reclusive_ genius billionaire, but that wasn't really Tony's style.

Erika glanced down at her notes then back up, fixing Clint with a fierce look. "Clint Barton. You're the second thing I wanted to talk about," she said, and he braced himself. "You lied to me. You told me you were retiring."

He shrugged. "I did retire," he said. "Just, you know. It didn't stick."

"We agreed that as you were retiring you didn't need to do any publicity stuff," said Erika. "I let you skip out on three -THREE- events that everyone else was made to go to."

"Yep," agreed Clint, beaming. "And I was heartbroken not to go to them."

She jabbed a finger at him. "You owe me three events."

"Oh, come on," said Clint. "I did actually retire, you know, it's not like I lied to you."

She glared at him. "You are the Avenger with the lowest profile, even after five years. The fewer events you go to, the more questions I have to field about what, exactly, it is you do that makes you worthy of being on the team."

Clint shrugged. "I shoot shit."

"Not an answer I can give them," she said. She threw a piece of paper at him. "Junior Archery Championships. You're going to present the medals and give an inspiring speech about following your dreams, or some such bullshit. I got Kaylee to write the speech for you, please don't add any off-colour jokes."

Clint let out a long sigh and pulled the folder towards him. The Junior Archery Championships were always full of the kind of pretentious, over-achieving rich kids that made his teeth itch.

Erika gave a nod of satisfaction. "And the third thing," she said, "is you." She looked straight at Bucky, who had been watching proceedings with the blank look that meant he thought it wasn't anything to do with him.

He twitched and stared back. "I'm not doing any speeches."

"Oh, we won't get you to run before you can walk," she said. “I saw the interview from the rat thing, at the moment I'll just be happy if we can get you to put a sentence together that doesn't mean I spend three days fighting psychopath stories.”

“He's not a psychopath,” said Clint. “Just, you know. He does a good impression of one.” He got glares from Bucky, Steve and Erika for that. He wondered how many glares he could get by the end of the meeting.

Erika turned back to Bucky. "Your problem is that no one knows very much about you at the moment. We need to get some basic information about you circulating, so it's not all just hearsay and photos of you shooting people. And _Dog Cops_ , but that's actually the bit that's playing best, so I'm not going to yell about that."

She glanced around at the others. "This may take a while, you don't all need to stay."

Wanda was out of the room before she'd finished speaking, followed a moment later by Vision, who didn't even bother using the door, he just walked through the nearest wall to get away. The others weren't far behind, until it was just Clint, Steve and Bucky.

Erika looked around at Clint and Steve with exasperation. "You don't need to protect him, you know."

Clint shrugged. "Might need to protect you from him," he said, and gave her a grin. "Nothing like being told you have to do publicity to make you want to choke someone to death with your super-powered metal arm."

Bucky let out a sigh. "I'm not gonna choke her. I just don't see the point in any of this shit."

Clint winced as Erika's eyes lit up. "Oh man, don't say that," he said, but it was too late.

"Let me explain," said Erika. "Without any PR, all the public ever sees about the Avengers is newspaper reports about death and destruction."

"And people's lives being saved," put in Bucky.

Erika shook her head. "That kind of thing is quickly forgotten, but rebuilding work goes on for months, sometimes years. Not to mention the grief over any lives that you don't manage to save. People have a nasty tendency to spread the blame for that sort of thing all over the place, even if it's not warranted. Before I came along, there was a strong backlash every time there was an incident, because no matter how well you guys handle it, someone always ends up holding a grudge."

Bucky was frowning at her. "That doesn't make any sense. If a bad guy trashes a town and kills some folks, why do you blame the people who came along to stop him?"

Erika shrugged. "Because people are shit, basically. Plus, you've got some people on the team they aren't so comfortable with, people who are just different enough to make irrational prejudices come out, or who have pasts that people tend to fixate on."

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his metal hand clenching around his real one.

"Like Wanda," said Clint, because it was important that Bucky knew he wasn't alone on that one. "And, actually, Natasha."

"Not everyone's comfortable with Vision, either," added Steve.

Bucky ducked a nod. "Okay, fine. So, what? You send them to black tie events and make them give speeches and suddenly everyone loves them?"

"Not quite that simple, but basically," said Erika. "It's all about controlling the image people see. If half the photos they see are you guys just being normal, or doing charity stuff, then the ones of you ripping the heads off bad guys get watered down."

"I'd just like to point out that I've never ripped the head off anyone," said Clint.

Bucky cleared his throat. "I have."

Clint patted his knee. "That's cuz you're the best."

"I'm not sure there's any need for Bucky to be getting involved in all this stuff just yet," said Steve. “I mean, that interview was just a one-off, we can keep him away from the cameras from now on.”

"Are you kidding?" asked Erika. "All anyone knows about him is that last year he tore up Washington DC and this year he's back to being your best bud. Not to mention the fact he keeps glowering at the media-"

"I haven't _glowered_ -," interrupted Bucky, and then cut himself off when she dumped a stack of photos on the table.

Clint grabbed at them and started sorting through. Every shot showed Bucky glaring at the photographer as if contemplating their painful death. "Oh man, these are awesome," he said. "Can I keep these?"

"Only if you help him stop doing it," said Erika. "I know the press are annoying little maggots, but we need to act like they're our friends."

"So, what? I have to go to that reception thing?" said Bucky.

"Oh, you were going to that anyway," said Erika. "I said the _whole_ team, and you're on it. I'm also gonna need to put out a line of merchandise for you, t-shirts and mugs and all the crap everyone else's faces are plastered on."

She threw down another folder in front of him.

Bucky didn't touch it. "What the hell kid is going to want my face on their shirt?"

"Screw the kids," said Clint, pulling the folder towards himself. "I want your face on my shirt." He opened it and started going through the designs. Oh man, a hoodie that looked like one arm was metal, he needed one of those.

"Me too," said Steve, grinning. "Can we get baseball hats as well? That'd be awesome."

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. "Hydra never had fucking merchandise," he muttered.

"Hydra don't know how to capitalise on brand recognition," said Erika. "We're still working on the designs, but those are the current ideas we're looking at. We're facing a problem, because the obvious colours for you are black, red and silver, but Widow's line is already in black and red."

Bucky shrugged. "So, maybe just not bother?"

Erika ignored him. "You'll need to look through that folder and give your approval."

Bucky sighed. "Can't you just do it and never tell me about it?"

"No," said Steve. "You need to approve anything they're putting out with your name on. If you give them free rein, they go nuts."

Clint leaned over. "We used to just leave them to it, and then they put out a range of underwear, and a woman tried to get Steve to autograph the Captain America g-string," he explained in a whisper just loud enough to be heard. "Now they have to ask for approval for everything."

Bucky sniggered, glancing over at Steve's reddening face. "Please tell me you've got photos of that." He blinked and then turned to Clint. "Wait, are there Hawkeye boxers?"

Clint grinned. "Oh yeah,” he said. “I've got some in a box somewhere."

Bucky's eyes lit up.

Steve cleared his throat. "If we could keep on topic."

Bucky sighed and looked back. "Okay, fine. So, merchandise, going along with the team to fancy shit, smiling at the cameras...is that it?"

"No," said Erika. Her eyes were darting between Bucky and Clint. "Something I should know?"

"We're soulmates," said Clint, and Bucky flinched.

"I thought that was meant to be a secret," he hissed.

"You don't have secrets from me," said Erika. "I need to know everything, but especially the things you don't want anyone else to know." She looked at Steve. "You're keeping them apart in public?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, same as me and Sam."

"Okay, anything else?" she asked, looking at Bucky.

He just shrugged. "I was Hydra's brainwashed assassin for seventy years?"

She waved that away. "We're not keeping that a secret. It's all about the redemption narrative."

"He doesn't need to redeem himself," said Steve, leaning forward. "None of that was his fault."

"Let me rephrase," said Erika. "The media love a redeemed bad boy. We're playing on that. What we're really going to need, though, is for him to do more interviews. Ones that he's actually had some media training for."

"No," said Bucky.

"Hell, no," added Clint.

Erika sat forward. "Look, I'm doing everything I can to minimise the assassin thing, but we need to give them something to go with instead. Make it just one interview, you talk about, I don't know, modern life and childhood memories of Steve, stuff that makes you seem like a real person. We need to introduce you to the American public properly."

Bucky hesitated, then shook his head. "I don't do well with people asking questions."

"We can vet them all first." she said. "Nothing you don't want to talk about gets mentioned."

"It's unnecessary," said Steve.

"It's not," said Erika. "Trust me, we need to put something out. Like we did with Wanda, back when all they had on her was that she was a foreigner with terrifying powers and a dubious history."

"Wanda wasn't dealing with the after-effects of being brain-washed," pointed out Clint. "What's the narrative going to be if he has a glitch over being interrogated by some bottom-feeder?"

"A glitch," repeated Bucky. "You mean, if I go nuts and try to smash someone's face in?"

He sounded irritated and Clint winced, turning to him. "No, I mean, like if you start feel understandably overwhelmed and don't manage to give nothing but media-friendly answers."

Bucky made a face. "I don't even know what a media-friendly answer is."

Erika sighed. "This is exactly my point. You and me, we're going to sit down for a few hours, run through exactly what is and isn't acceptable, draft out some basic answers to the most obvious questions you'll get asked. Trust me, it'll be a lot easier after that.”

Bucky made a face and glanced at Clint, who wanted so badly to tell him that it was unnecessary and they could spend the time on the range instead, but- Well. She did have a point.

Bucky must have seen his thoughts on his face, because he just let out a long sigh and turned back to Erika with a look as if he was going to his own funeral. “Fine. You want to do this now?”

“No time like the present,” she said, sitting down and opening yet another folder. She glanced at Steve and Clint. “You guys really don't have to hang around for this, I promise I'm not going to hurt him.”

Steve and Clint exchanged looks and Steve stood up. Clint glanced at Bucky who gave him a nod, and he did the same. 

“Have fun,” he said, and gave Bucky a kiss.

Bucky just rolled his eyes. “Fucking bullshit,” he muttered.

“And that's the first thing we'll discuss,” said Erika. “You need to stop letting your hatred of the media be so obvious.”

Clint left him to it, wondering if it made him a bad soulmate to be so fucking relieved it was Bucky sitting through that instead of him.

****

Bucky pretty much only had two outfits: black leather and body armour when they were fighting, and shapeless black hoodies the rest of the time, so Clint hadn't known what to expect for the Mayor of Chicago's reception. Whenever he tried to picture Bucky in a black tie atmosphere, he just came up with him either pulling a knife on some dignitary or hunching over in the corner with a hood pulled over his head.

That didn't mean he wasn't really looking forward to it, though. He had vague ideas of vintage glamour that he really hoped would be born out by reality.

Bucky had wanted to just buy a tuxedo over the internet, which lasted as a plan right up until Clint casually mentioned it to Tony. He thought Tony was going to have some kind of aneurysm over the phone, then he hung up and within three hours, Bucky and Steve had been whisked off in a Stark helicopter to some over-priced bespoke tailor.

Clint waved them off, grinning in the face of Bucky's obvious displeasure, then headed to his range to get some shooting practice in. When Bucky came back, he refused to talk about whatever had gone on, other than to swear that he was never going through anything like that ever again.

"Yeah, okay," said Clint, "but did you look hot in it?"

Bucky sent him a dark glower and stalked off to the bathroom to have a very long shower. Clint could empathise. He always felt vaguely violated after a session with one Tony's tailors measuring every part of him and making quiet, disapproving noises.

He didn't actually see Bucky in his tuxedo until just before they were due to leave for Chicago. He came out of the bathroom to find Bucky staring at himself in the mirror with a deeply confused look.

Clint gave a wolf-whistle. "Wow, okay, you look seriously good." Instead of looking like he was dressed up in someone else's clothes, Bucky looked as if he was made for black tie. Holy hell, Clint's soulmate was really fucking hot, how did he ever get to be so lucky?

Bucky glared at his reflection. "Am I meant to be doing anything with my hair?"

Clint shrugged. "No idea, I've never had hair longer than a couple of inches. Well, apart from that time in Iran, but I wasn't going to any fancy black tie dinners while I was being held captive."

Bucky let out a long, slow breath. "Not helpful."

"Yeah, probably not," said Clint. He stepped up behind Bucky to look at him over his shoulder in the mirror. He reached up and pulled Bucky's hair back, then let it fall. He shrugged. "You look fucking hot both ways."

Bucky let out a sigh. "Fuck it, I can't be bothered with all this primping. Down will do." He turned around and gave Clint a long look. "Are you just going in a towel?"

"Yup," said Clint. "Well, I look totally classy in anything, right?"

"Try telling that to someone who hasn't seen you wearing your own merchandise," said Bucky.

Clint raised an eyebrow, then let his towel fall. "Maybe I'm just thinking that it'll be easier to seduce the sexy super-soldier like this."

Bucky snorted, putting his arms around Clint and kissing him. "You could seduce me in pretty much anything, but we don't really have time for that now. Steve will get all long-suffering at us if we're late cuz we're fucking."

Clint let out a sigh. "We should have thought ahead and factored in some time for tuxedo sex," he said. "I bet Steve and Sam did."

"We'll just have to do it afterwards," said Bucky.

Clint shook his head. "We're staying at a hotel there, remember? We'll have to be in totally-not-soulmates mode. No sex, no kissing, no holding hands, no making goo-goo eyes at each other..."

"I do so enjoy the goo-goo eyes," said Bucky. He kissed Clint again, lingering for a moment, then pulled away with a sigh. "Fine, okay, I guess we'll have to shelve the classy sex for another time. Get dressed."

Clint made a face but turned away to find his own suit. Having to keep up a facade of just-colleagues when in public was getting pretty old, but he supposed it was much better having to keep his distance from Bucky at the occasional reception than giving the bad guys the opportunity to use them as leverage against each other.

He got dressed and then squinted at his own hair in the mirror, vaguely rubbing gel through it until it looked like he'd tried to put some effort in.

"How often do these kind of gigs come up?" asked Bucky.

Clint shrugged. "Too often. Maybe every other month or so? We get invited to more but usually we just make Tony and Steve go and draw straws for one other person to accompany them."

"Tony is about as good at being retired as you were," noted Bucky.

"He's still on the books as a consultant," said Clint. "He does all our weapons and tech, and he's so much better at this kind of thing than the rest of us. Plus, he's usually going anyway, just cuz of the billionaire playboy businessman thing."

Bucky pulled out a handful of knives and a gun and started tucking them under his suit.

"You're not meant to be taking weapons," Clint reminded him.

Bucky just snorted. "Name one Avenger who won't have a weapon on them tonight. Other than goody-two-shoes Captain America."

"Sam," said Clint, instantly.

"Oh, Sam," said Bucky, dismissively. "He's completely lacking in a normal amount of paranoia."

"And we're judging the normal amount of paranoia by you, are we?" asked Clint, tucking a knife in his ankle holster.

"No, we're judging it by you," said Bucky. "Or are we meant to be pretending that knife is in case they run out of cutlery?"

"Weirder things have happened," said Clint. "I've got a spoon on the other leg."

Bucky tucked his gun under his jacket and gave him a raised eyebrow. "It probably says something deeply worrying about me that I'm kinda hoping that's true."

"There is no spoon," said Clint, with a meaningful emphasis, then sighed at the blank look from Bucky. "Okay, remind me to sit you down in front of _The Matrix_ at some point. Seriously, one day we'll get you all caught up and you'll actually get my references."

"What the hell will we do with our Friday nights then?" asked Bucky.

Clint shrugged. "Sex?"

Bucky made a face. "If we have to."

****

The quinjet felt pretty crowded with the whole team in evening dress on board, plus their overnight bags. Clint made sure to slip into the pilot's seat before Natasha could because that way he not only got a seat, but plenty of leg room.

"Right," said Steve. "Just a quick rundown of the rules."

"We know the rules," said Natasha.

"And yet, someone manages to break them every damn time we go to one of these things," said Steve. "And so, I will be going back over them."

There was a general sigh that Steve ignored. "Firstly and most importantly: do not pull a weapon on anyone. Not even if they tread on your foot, or give you an odd look, or look like a guy who tried to kill you in Kiev once."

"What if they pull a weapon on you first?" asked Bucky.

Clint didn't need to turn around to picture the look Steve was giving him. "If they pull what you think is a weapon, you stop, count to three, and then look again to make sure it's not a cell phone, a pair of glasses, or a cocktail umbrella."

"A cocktail umbrella," repeated Bucky. "Right."

Clint made a mental note to tell him that story later.

"The second rule," continued Steve, "is that you do not tell anyone any stories that involve assassination, torture or excessive amounts of violence. I don't care how cool you think they make you sound. And definitely, completely, do not tell them while laughing. Remember, we need to convince everyone we're not psychopaths."

"Most of us aren't," said Wanda, quietly.

Not quietly enough. "And that's why we will be keeping the murder stories to ourselves," said Steve. "Keep your anecdotes PG rated, people, or you'll be cleaning the kitchen for the next month."

"Okay, so, are there any rules that don't boil down to 'pretend to be normal'?" asked Bucky.

Steve paused. "Uh, no, not really. No weapons, no shop talk, no threats, no running away to hide in the air-vents-"

"That was one time," protested Clint, and was ignored.

"-no describing Asgardian orgies-"

"That was Thor, and he's not with us this time," said Natasha, but was also ignored.

"-no claiming that the Avengers have an orgy every Thursday-"

"That was Tony," pointed out Rhodey. "You can try and stop him claiming he lives in a world of perpetual orgies if you want, but I've been trying for years and I've never managed it."

"-and definitely no calling people names in foreign languages."

Wanda muttered something in Sokovian at the same time as Natasha said something in Russian that Clint had definitely heard before, usually aimed at him.

Bucky snorted, and replied to her in the same language.

"No making your soulmate feel left out," put in Clint, wondering why he hadn't bothered learning Russian when he'd first started partnering with Natasha. It had seemed like a hassle at the time but he'd have been pretty much fluent by now, and more than capable of joining in with the insulting-people-in-Russian game.

"That's not a rule," said Steve. "Bucky should feel free to exclude you whenever he wants."

Clint huffed. "Rude," he muttered.

"Oh," said Steve, "and, last rule: No doing anything that Tony thinks is a good idea. That's actually the most important one."

"I have absolutely no problem with that one," said Bucky.

"I kinda wish I'd had that rule when I first met him," said Rhodey. "Or, just, some kind of common sense."

"If you had common sense, you wouldn't be flying around in a robot suit, fighting super-powered villains," pointed out Sam. "Actually, you probably wouldn't have joined the Air Force, either."

"I'd have become an accountant," said Rhodey, "like my dad wanted me to."

"Sounds excruciatingly dull," said Natasha.

There was a pause, then Rhodey sighed. "Yeah," he agreed. "Okay, fine, maybe letting Tony get me involved in shit wasn't that bad. Except the thing with the sharks in Jamaica, that was ridiculous."

"Okay guys, we're here," said Clint, bringing the quinjet down towards the helipad on the roof of the hotel they were staying at. "Operation We're Totally Normal, No Really, We Are begins now. Good luck, and may God have mercy on our souls."

Steve let out an irritated sigh. "It's not that hard," he muttered as Clint landed the quinjet.

“Says the guy who got in a row with a two-star general the first time the Howling Commandos got invited to a thing,” said Bucky.

Wait, what?

Clint whipped his head around to stare at Bucky. “Oh, man, you _have_ to give us the full story on that.”

Steve groaned and put his head in his hands. “Why is it you always remember the embarrassing shit so clearly?”

“Cuz God thinks you need someone to keep you humble?” suggested Bucky. “Okay, so, they had some shindig for us at the US Embassy in London one time when we were there on leave, just after we'd taken down- something big, can't remember what. Anyway, we all put on our dress uniforms, shined our shoes, all that shit, then we get there, and some asshole general pulls Cap aside to tell him that Gabe wasn't actually welcome cuz he was black and, y'know, bullshit. 

“Course, we haven't got a clue what they're talking about. As far as we're concerned, we were promised free booze and now we're being kept waiting while top brass talk to Steve, so we're just hanging about, trying not to look impatient, when out of nowhere, he just yells, 'With all due respect, sir, you can take your sense of appropriateness and shove it up your ass', then he comes over and announces we're going to the nearest bar instead.”

“Oh, wow,” said Clint. “And you even threw in the 'with all due respect' as well, that's just incredible.”

Steve hadn't taken his face out of his hands. “I was young and reckless, I hadn't learnt the best way to deal with that stuff yet.”

“I don't know,” said Sam. “Sounds like you dealt with it the very best way.” He leaned over and kissed the top of Steve's head, sliding a hand through his hair.

Steve lifted his head to look at him. “Yeah, okay, maybe,” he said. “Just, please. No one tell Tony.”

Rhodey laughed. “Yeah, he'd have a field day with that.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Tony was waiting for them on the helipad, already dressed up in a tuxedo but wearing his ridiculous red sunglasses with it, which shouldn't have looked cool, but- Well, everything Tony did somehow looked cool. Clint hadn't worked out how he managed it yet.

"Looking sharp, guys," he said. "Well, except for you, Clint. You're not really made for a tux, are you?"

"Fuck off," said Clint, cheerfully.

"He looks fine," said Bucky. His arm twitched as if he were about to reach out for Clint and then remembered that they weren't behind closed doors.

"I tell you what, come to Cap's room once you're settled in and I'll fix your bow-tie," said Tony. "And bring your boy as well, got something he might want to hear."

Bucky huffed a sigh at the epithet but didn't complain, which told Clint that he didn't mind it that much. He had to duck his head to hide his smile at the thought that maybe Bucky liked being Clint's.

"What's that?" asked Steve.

Tony just gave him a smile, then twirled a finger in the air to indicate the open sky above them. "Better behind a locked door, Cap, trust me. Come on, I got them to reserve their very plushest rooms for you all, except for Natasha who I'm guessing just needs a cupboard to sleep upside down in, like a bat."

"As long as there's a lock on the door in case of Van Helsing," said Natasha.

"For you? Always," said Tony, leading them downstairs. There was a hotel minion waiting for them just inside, who took them around the various rooms that had been reserved for them. Clint grabbed a room with Bucky, of course. Just because they had to pretend to be just friends didn't mean they couldn't be friends who shared a room.

"Get settled, then come through," said Steve, opening the door of the room next to them. He glanced at Tony. "Do we need the whole team?"

Tony shook his head. "Nah, this is just for Team Bucky."

"Team Bucky," said Clint. "Oh man, do we get t-shirts?"

"No," growled Bucky, sending him a glare before marching into their room.

Clint glanced at Tony, who grinned. "I'll get some made up," he promised.

"Awesome," said Clint, following Bucky into the room.

He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the kind of luxury that 5-star hotels provided, not even after a couple of years living in Tony Stark's penthouse. Something about the fluffiness of the towels and the shining white of the surfaces made him want to cover the whole place in Mcdonald's wrappers.

He dumped his bag, thought about unpacking and then wondered why he'd bother.

“You unpacking?” he asked Bucky, who shook his head.

“Nah, but I am fixing your bow-tie,” he said, moving close to fiddle with it. Clint tipped his chin up to give him access. “No way I'm letting Stark play with my soulmate's bow-tie,” he added in a mutter.

Clint grinned and kissed him once he was done doing whatever it was that made bow-ties look good and not a disaster. “No need to worry, I swear the suave, cosmopolitan billionaire thing does nothing for me. It's the hobo look that gets me.”

“If I look like a hobo right now, Stark wasted an obscene amount of money on this suit,” said Bucky.

Clint glanced down at him. “Yeah, okay, you rock the suave cosmopolitan look as well as the hobo one. Guess you're just multi-faceted.”

That earned him a kiss from Bucky. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go find out what Stark wants. And make sure Steve hasn't got a better room than us."

Clint glanced around at the thick carpets, worryingly complicated lights and massive TV. Wait, that was TVs plural. "Oh yeah, I'd hate to find out he was making us slum it in here while he was bathing in luxury."

Steve and Sam's room was pretty much identical to Bucky and Clint's. When they got there, Tony was closing the blinds on the windows. He gave them a nod, then set his phone down on the table. "Okay, Friday, go for it."

A grid of blue lines shot up from the phone, expanded out to run over the room, then dropped back into the phone. "Scanning complete," reported Friday. "No bugs detected."

"What the hell have you got to say that requires this much security?" asked Bucky. He sounded pretty stressed and Clint realised that if there were no bugs and the blinds were shut, there was no reason for him not to just wrap his arms around him and lay a long smooch on him.

Bucky made a noise of protest to start with, but it didn't last long as he got firmly distracted by Clint's tongue. Oh yeah, Clint: 1 Anxiety: 0.

Tony cleared his throat, "Okay, well, I was about to explain, but we can wait if you want."

"We do have to go to the reception at some point," said Steve. Clint ignored him, because he was willing to bet that Sam was holding his hand or touching him in some other way right now.

"Nah," said Tony. "We can just invite them all here, give out popcorn."

Clint pulled away from Bucky's mouth and rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, fine. Go on with it." And, yep, Sam had an arm slung around Steve's waist. Those two were pretty predictable.

Bucky sat down on a sofa and pulled Clint down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "It better be worth stopping kissing Clint for."

"Yeah, I think it will be," said Tony. "Okay, so, I finally got through all the data you guys hijacked from that Hydra base, including the encrypted bits and the bits they thought were hidden but were easy to find cuz I'm amazing and their tech guys are, well, not. There was a bunch of stuff about you, mostly just mission reports-"

Bucky winced, so Clint relaxed back against him, giving Tony a warning glare in case he decided to detail anything he'd read in those.

Tony ploughed straight on, though. "There was also a handful of notes from the original scientists about the process they used which, I mean, I know it was the '40s but Christ, it was fucking barbaric."

"Yeah," said Bucky, bleakly. "I remember."

"It was also pretty bad science," said Tony. "I mean, even back then they could have come up with-" Sam cleared his throat pointedly and Tony cut himself off, glancing between the glares he was getting. "Okay, well, the point is that I looked over all the data and figured out exactly what they did, and I think I've got a way to make it so they can't wipe you again."

Bucky sat forward. "How? When can we do it?"

"Calm down," said Tony, holding his hands up. "It's not perfect, and it'll hurt a lot. Let me explain, and you can make an informed decision, yeah?"

Bucky sat back and waved a hand at him to go on. Clint noticed that he'd leant back against Clint as much as the sofa. Steve sat down heavily on the other sofa, his fingers knotted together, and Sam sat down with him, keeping his arm around him.

"Right," said Tony. "Okay, so, there were a few phases to the Winter Soldier programming, yeah? First thing they did was wipe everything they could, then implant some trigger words, then repeat the process a whole bunch of times to make sure it stuck. Wiping you that completely took a lot of time though, so once they had it all in place, they just had a shorter process to reset you when they needed."

"Reset him," repeated Steve, with a note that said he was contemplating punching something.

Tony held his hands up. "Hey, yeah, I get it. This is all shit, and the vocabulary they used is worse, but-"

Bucky shook his head. "Doesn't matter what it's called. They reset me, then said the trigger words and gave me a new mission, yeah?"

"Yes, precisely," said Tony. "And before they froze you every time, they reset you again, but they never actually did the full wipe again. Well, they didn't really need to, because they had the trigger words in place to control you and make sure nothing came back."

Sam frowned. "So, they didn't wipe him fully when Rumlow took him? They just did this reset?"

"Exactly," said Tony. "Which is probably why he got his memories back quicker the second time around, because he'd already done it once and the reset is easier to shake off. If they'd done a full wipe- well, I mean, they'd have needed a week, for one thing, but we'd have basically been back to square one."

Clint glanced at Bucky, who was wearing an expression that looked like it could have been carved out of stone. "Would he have still known not to shoot me?"

Tony shrugged. "No idea. I wouldn't bank on it."

Bucky's hand closed around Clint's, gripping tight enough to hurt. "Right, okay. What's this plan, then?"

"You're really not going to like it," said Tony, warningly.

Bucky snorted. "You think there's anything about this that I do like? Come on, hit me with it."

"Well, okay,” said Tony, “so the problem we have is that if they get you again, they just have to reset, say the trigger words, and you're gone. And yeah, okay, eventually Clint could probably get you back again, but-"

"-but who knows what I'd do before he could do that," said Bucky. "Yeah, I get it. I'm a liability."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Calm yourself, I'm just trying to explain, The problem isn't being reset itself, it's the trigger words that make you mindlessly obedient. I've gone back over the data several times, looking for a solution, but the only thing we can do is do a complete wipe again, and give you new trigger words. Ones that Hydra wouldn't know, that no one else could use, and that have a different response from you."

Bucky stared at him. "You want to wipe my mind."

"No," said Tony, holding his hands up. "No, no. Well, okay, maybe a bit."

Steve let out a disgusted noise. "We're not doing it."

"It wouldn't be like before," said Tony, quickly. "Their science was so bad, seriously, I could build a version of the chair that would do it in less than twelve hours, and if we give the new words the effect of bringing all his memories back and restoring him to himself, he'd come out of it exactly how he went in. With the added bonus that if Hydra ever tried to reset him again, their words would do nothing and we'd have an instant trigger in place to get him back."

"Twelve hours," said Bucky, slowly. "And the pain?"

Tony winced. "Yeah, sorry, I can't do anything about that."

"We're not doing it," said Steve again. "We'll just make damn sure Hydra don't get anywhere near him again."

"It's not your decision, Steve," said Bucky.

Steve turned and gave him an incredulous look. "You can't seriously be considering this?"

Bucky shrugged. "I don't want to be a weapon again."

"I swear," put in Tony, "I went over everything, looking for another way, but this is all there was. I thought you should at least know it was an option."

Bucky nodded, then glanced at Clint. "What do you think?"

Clint didn't know what to think. On the one hand, the idea of not having to worry about trying to talk the Winter Soldier down again sounded great, but on the other...twelve hours was a long time to be in pain. He shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I guess I'll support whatever you decide."

"There's no rush," said Tony. "Think about it, let me know. We can do it any time, I'll just need a couple of days to put together a chair for it."

Steve shook his head. "No, Bucky, come on. You can't seriously want to have your brain messed about with again?"

"Of course I don't," said Bucky. "But if it's a choice between Hydra messing with me and Stark, I'll take Stark any day."

"Hey, now there's a vote of confidence that I should get SI to use in their advertising," said Tony. He glanced at his watch. "We should probably be heading over to this shindig soon, I'll gather the others."

He left, and Bucky let out a long sigh, turning to rest his head against Clint's shoulder.

"Bucky," said Steve, "You don't need to do this."

"I haven't decided yet," said Bucky. "Just- I remember them putting me in the chair last time, Steve. I'd have given anything to have already done this. I don't want to be in that position again."

Clint ran his hand through Bucky's hair. "We're going to do everything we can to make sure you're not."

"Hydra are pretty beaten down right now,” said Sam. “I don't think we need to worry until they've had a chance to rebuild."

"Don't underestimate them," said Bucky, sitting back up. "They've got more resources than they let on."

"So do we," said Steve. "Don't rush into any decisions."

Bucky shook his head. "Nah, course not. I'll leave jumping into shit without fully considering it to you."

"Punk," muttered Steve.


	2. Chapter 2

When they got to the reception, Clint went straight to the bar with Rhodey and Sam, leaving Steve and Tony to do all the requisite greeting of dignitaries. Bucky hovered close to Steve, glancing around at the room, noting exits and probably evaluating every rich bastard in the place for a possible threat.

Clint really wanted to be standing next to him, reminding him that he'd been fine last time he'd socialised with civilians and maybe putting his arm around his waist to settle him but, no. Too risky.

The reception was dull as hell, as these things always were. The Avengers all stood around politely chatting while drinking over-priced champagne and eating the tiniest canapés Clint had ever seen, then there was a round of speeches that seemed to go on forever. After that, the dancing got started, but it was the slow, stately kind of dancing that made Clint want to fall asleep. Still, he was obliged to dance with a handful of the women Tony pointed out to him as particularly important, then took Natasha out for a spin so that she could take a breather from all the rich old guys who didn't seem to realise how easy she'd find it to seriously maim them.

"How long did Tony say we had to stay?" asked Clint.

Natasha shook her head. "Too long," she said. "I can't decide if it's worse to be dancing or making small talk."

"The small talk," said Clint. "Definitely. Unless it's dancing with Mrs Vanhausen, she's a bit too handsy for me."

They turned and he caught sight of Bucky, trapped in a conversation with Steve, the mayor and three men in suits who Clint had a feeling were captains of industry or some such shit. Bucky looked as if he were contemplating throwing himself through the nearest window.

Clint glanced around and caught Sam's eye, then tipped his head towards Bucky. Sam glanced over, sent Clint a nod, and set off on a rescue mission.

"I'm pretty sure he's able to cope better than you think," said Natasha. "You worry too much."

Clint snorted. "That's never been true. Hey, you think anyone would notice if I tried to read my print?"

"Yes," said Natasha. "Everyone would notice. You should have thought to make sure you touched in a more accessible place."

Clint sighed. “It's not like there was really a lot of _choice_ in the matter,” he grumbled.

"Can I cut in?" asked Tony, appearing out of nowhere.

"Sure," said Clint, letting go of Natasha and moving back out of his way but instead of taking hold of Natasha, Tony stepped up to Clint.

"Sorry, Romanov, you're not the super-spy who's doing it for me right now," he said. "C'mon, Hawkeye, show me what you've got."

Clint caught Natasha's amused look and gave a resigned sigh. "I'm leading, right?"

"Not a chance," said Tony, putting his arm around Clint's back and taking the first steps of the dance.

Clint had more experience with following than most men, which was a thing that happened when you were friends with Black Widow. He fell in with Tony's movements with ease. "Making up for the fact that Pepper never lets you lead?"

Tony raised his eyebrows. "I thought I wasn't allowed to give you any details of my sex life."

"Ugh," said Clint. "No, okay, stop."

Over Tony's shoulder, he could see that Sam had taken Bucky over to where Vision and Wanda were keeping to the edge of the room, which Clint had a feeling was the _we creep people out so are keeping a low profile_ gang. Well, okay, whatever worked.

"So, what did you think about what I said at the hotel?" asked Tony.

Clint pulled his eyes away to look at him. Were they really going to talk about this right here in the middle of all these people? Tony kept looking at him expectantly, so apparently they were.

He shrugged. "Not really up to what I think."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's a hundred percent Bucky's decision," said Tony. "Just, you know. If it _was_ your decision?"

"My decision about my brain, or my decision about his?" asked Clint.

Tony frowned. "There'd be a different answer?"

Clint thought about that as they stepped through another few bars of music. "I don't know," he said, eventually. "I mean, my brain, I think I'd not want anyone anywhere near it ever again, but Bucky... I know being wiped again is pretty much his worst nightmare."

In that he actually dreamed about it, far more often than either of them were happy about. Clint would have thought that sleeping curled up with your soulmate would put an end to nightmares, but that hadn't proved true for either of them.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, that's probably fair.”

"You're not asking me to influence him one way or another, are you?" asked Clint. "Cuz, seriously, I'm not making his decision for him, it doesn't matter how fancy your dancing is."

Tony raised an eyebrow and then, yep, Clint should have seen it coming, he pulled Clint into a spin that he just about managed to keep his feet in time to, and then lowered him into a dip. He grinned at Clint as he straightened back up. "You're good at this."

Clint glared at him. "I may not have been the James Bond kind of spy, but it doesn't mean I didn't need some of his skills," he said. "If you let me lead, I could show you a move or two."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, not happening."

Behind him, Bucky was levelling a very dark glare at the two of them. Clint sent him a look back that he hoped conveyed that he really had nothing to worry about, and also that he needed to be more subtle about his jealousy than that. Bucky just hunched his shoulders and turned away to say something to Sam.

"I don't want you to make his mind up for him," said Tony, quietly. "I totally get that this has to be all him. It's just-" He paused, and then made a face that said he was finding this more emotional than he wanted it to be. "My parents were killed by someone I can't blame for it. As I can't get revenge, I just want to know I've done something that means it won't happen again, you know?"

"You took revenge on Hydra," Clint pointed out.

Tony shook his head. "It's not the same. It's not, I don't know, personal enough. A giant organisation isn't the kind of bad guy you can punch in the face, you know?"

"Neither's Bucky," said Clint, putting a warning note into his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that," said Tony. "Don't panic, I'm not missing the point here, just- If we can root out the Winter Soldier bit from his brain, I'll feel like I've killed the thing that killed my folks." He shook his head. "Probably makes no sense."

"No," said Clint, slowly. "It kinda does." He looked back over at Bucky, who was now talking to Wanda. "Just, it doesn't stop it being Bucky's choice."

"Yeah, I know," said Tony, quietly.

The song came to an end and Tony let Clint go, moving toward Pepper instead. Clint decided he'd done enough dancing and headed over to the others.

"Is anyone drunk yet?" he asked, grabbing a glass from a waiter as he passed by.

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking the cyborg or the super-soldier? Because Sam and I are on orange juice."

Clint sighed. "A whole reception full of free booze and we're really not taking advantage."

"I'm still on medication," Sam reminded Clint. "What's your excuse?"

"Too much time dancing," said Clint, and then drained the rest of his glass in one go. "Don't worry, I'm working on it."

Bucky let out a long sigh. "I'm not carrying you if you get wasted."

"Don't worry," said Vision. "I can lift him."

"No," said Clint. "No, no, I'm not being carried home, I'll be fine." He lifted another glass as a waiter went by. "Just going to get a buzz, that's all."

"A buzz," repeated Bucky. "Oh man, why did I think rooming with you was a good idea?"

"The human brain is capable of some very strange and irrational decisions," put in Vision, which Clint really didn't think was fair.

He was prevented from protesting by Steve's arrival. "Stop hiding in the corner and go mingle," he hissed. "I'm not doing all the handshaking by myself."

There was a collective sigh, but they all obediently turned to disperse. Clint caught Bucky's eye as he went, just barely resisting the urge to give him a wink. Man, he couldn't wait to get back to the base where he could flirt with him until the others all started to complain.

He headed to the bar before he started in on the mingling, thinking that he'd need a stronger drink than champagne if he was going to talk to the rich and powerful.

"Clint Barton," drawled an elegant voice behind him just as he got the bartender's attention.

"Whisky," he mouthed to him before he turned, pinning on a smile, to greet an older woman wearing an alarming amount of diamonds.

"Hi," he said, desperately trying to remember if he'd ever met her before and drawing a blank.

"That is right, isn't it?" she said. "You're the one they called Hawkeye?"

"That's me," he said, as the bartender put his drink down next to him. He snatched it up. Awesome, they hadn't met, he could get away with having no idea who she was. Unless she turned out to be the kind of super-VIP who would take offence at that.

"And you're deaf," she said, her eyes flicking over to his ears.

"Uh," said Clint, blinking. Apparently she'd decided that being rich meant she could be rude. "Yeah."

She blinked and her eyes went back to his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was impolite. I was merely-" She paused and pressed her lips together. "Allow me to start again.” She raised her hands and slowly signed, _Good evening. My name is Mrs Harrington_.

Oh, okay, that was a bit different. _Pleased to meet you,_ he signed back, despite the fact it was pretty much a lie.

She pressed her lips together. “I'm afraid that's the extent of my sign language.” Ah yeah, okay, less different.

“That's cool,” said Clint. “It's more than most people know.” Not actually true. Loads of people seemed to know a greeting and an introduction, and then nothing more.

“My great-niece is deaf,” she said. “She's a lovely girl, just turned twelve. They named her after me, you know.”

Right, and she cared about her so much that she learnt a whole one phrase in ASL. A phrase that was kinda redundant to use to your great-niece. Clint put on his best _I am interested in the boring details of your life_ expression.

“She wants to be an actress,” Mrs Harrington continued. “Loves performing, always has. Her local drama club wouldn't let her join, though. They said they didn't have the resources necessary to provide her with the same experience as the other children. What rubbish.”

“That sucks,” said Clint, wondering how long he was going to have to care about the poor little rich girl.

"I thought so, so I started a charity," she said. Clint had to bite his tongue not to give a sigh. Oh man, he was about to get his ear chewed off about how great and noble her work was. How quickly could he escape without giving offence?

“Drama and other performing arts are excellent ways for children to learn the kind of life skills that schools are not so good at,” she said. “Confidence, public speaking, that sort of thing. It seemed terrible that deaf children should be denied the chance to develop those skills, so I set up a foundation. We do regular weekly sessions for hard of hearing children, as well as the occasional workshop for those with other disabilities. At the end of the term they put on a show.”

“Sounds great,” said Clint. Aw man, his drink was empty again. How could he subtly signal the bartender for another one?

Mrs Harrington gave him a raised eyebrow. “There's no need to humour me. We both know that children's shows are always horrific. Being deaf doesn't make their acting any better.”

Okay, that was unexpected. “Not even your great-niece?” he asked.

She shuddered, very delicately. “She is an horrific over-actor. Everything has to be done with a big gesture.” She shook her head. “That is not the point, though. The point is that she gets the same opportunity as other children.”

“I guess that's fair,” said Clint. “I'm beginning to think there's a reason for this conversation that we haven't got to, though.”

Mrs Harrington gave a nod. “I want to invite you to the next show.”

Clint stared at her. “The horrific, over-acted one?”

“Yes, the very same,” she said. “Well, perhaps this time the instructors will have managed to bash some subtlety into her performance. Oh, don't look like that, it's not very long and we serve cake and wine afterwards. I just thought it would be nice to have someone there that the children could look to as a role model.”

Clint couldn't keep himself from wincing at that. His job was to shoot people; no kid should pick him as a role model.

“Well, as someone who has managed to achieve the pinnacle of his profession without letting his hearing loss hold him back, at any rate,” she corrected. “And, it should be noted, as the sort of celebrity they get excited about.” She let out a long sigh. “I tried to inspire them with a talk about Beethoven, but I'm afraid I misjudged.”

Yeah, okay, no kid was going to be excited by a talk about Beethoven from some old woman. Clint took a moment to consider. He did owe Erika another two charity events and deaf drama kids couldn't be any more annoying than archery kids, right? Plus, free cake.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I'll come.”

She looked surprised. “Really? I was fully expecting a polite rebuttal.”

Clint grinned. “Okay, you clearly don't know much about me. _Polite_ isn't really my thing.” He reached into his pocket and found a scrap of paper and a pen. “Contact Erika Meadows, she'll set the whole thing up. Tell her I told you to call.” He scribbled Erika's number down and handed it over.

She looked down at it and then tucked it away. “Thank you,” she said. “Maggie will be so excited.”

Clint shrugged. “Not a problem.” He caught Natasha staring at him from across the room, clearly wondering what the hell he was getting into. “Hey, can I bring a friend?”

“Of course,” she said. “But, well. It will be performed in sign, they'd need to be fluent.”

_Like you are?_ thought Clint. Why would you go to all the bother of setting up and running a whole organisation for the benefit of your great-niece, but not learn how to communicate with her? Well, unless you were afraid that you'd find you had nothing in common if you did manage a conversation.

“Not a problem, I've got a couple of friends who sign,” he said, and gestured at Natasha to get her attention. _Do you owe Erika any events?_ he signed at her. _Got one with free cake here._

Her eyes narrowed. _What's the catch?_

_Deaf kids putting on a play in sign. Terrible acting, but just one evening. And, seriously, free cake. And wine._

She considered. _I'll see. If she lets me do it instead of breast cancer awareness, then yes._

_What've you got against breast cancer?_

Even from this distance he could see her eyes narrow. _Pink is not my colour._

He sniggered, then turned back to Mrs Harrington. “Black Widow might come along,” he said. “This better be damn good cake, though.”

She managed a faint hint of a smile. “I shall make sure we provide only the best.”

****

Clint danced with Natasha a couple more times and then Sam, who was making it a mission to dance with every Avenger at least once so that he had an excuse to dance with Steve. Clint caught Bucky's eye and twitched his eyebrow and got a half-shake of Bucky's head in response, so he danced with Wanda instead and then found an excuse to hide out in a corner for a bit.

Bucky found his way over to lean against the wall beside Clint. He had a glass in his hand but Clint was pretty sure it was the same one he'd been nursing all evening.

"How you holding up?" asked Clint.

Bucky gave a shrug. "Just bored, mostly. How long do we have to stay here?"

Clint glanced at his watch and made a face. "Probably at least another hour or two. You could tell Steve you're feeling over-whelmed, maybe give him a bit of the Winter Soldier glare, and he'd probably let you nip off early."

Bucky looked like he was considering it, then shook his head. "Not sure I want to get in the habit of lying about my mental state. If you guys are all sticking it out, I guess I will too."

"Martyr," said Clint, and earned himself an eye-roll.

Vision came over, cloak floating behind him in a breeze that Clint was pretty sure didn't exist. "Hello," he said.

"Yo, s'up?" said Clint.

Vision gave him a long look while Bucky let out an audible sigh. Clint grinned.

"You seem to be skilled at dancing," Vision continued.

Clint shrugged. "I got moves," he agreed, and then had to give Bucky a glare to stop his laughter. "Hey, you only get to comment if you're actually going to cut a rug yourself, Mr I'm Too Emo For Dancing."

"Emo," repeated Bucky. "Seriously?"

Clint shrugged. "Hey, I've seen the photos, I know how much eyeliner you used to wear."

"That wasn't eyeliner," muttered Bucky, and then, "I shouldn't even know what emo is."

Clint ignored him in favour of looking at Vision. "So, yeah, I can dance."

"Will you show me?" asked Vision. "I want to dance with Wanda but I think some instruction might be in order first."

"Yeah?" said Clint. "It's pretty easy, and she's not so bad."

Vision gave a slightly helpless shrug. "I've never done any kind of dancing."

Right, okay. Naturally, it fell to Clint to teach the robot how to dance, and when did his life become a feel-good kids film from the '80s? 

"Okay then, come on," he said, heading back to the dance floor with a last glance at Bucky, who was clearly stifling laughter.

Vision picked it up quickly enough once he'd caught on to the idea of rhythm and it only took Clint two dances to get him confident enough to approach Wanda, who gave him a bemused look but let him take her hand.

Clint stood back and watched with the faintly critical eye of a teacher. Vision basically had it down, but he could see Wanda was doing a bit of adjusting to keep with him.

Tony appeared beside him, took one look at the two of them, and snorted. "Christ, if you'd told me when I started the coding for JARVIS that I'd one day be watching him, or an evolution of him, dance with a girl he fancied... well, okay, I'd have vomited on your shoes. I was seriously drunk that night."

"This explains so much," said Clint, noticing that Vision's feet were phasing through the floor. Well, okay, being able to move through stuff must make it easier to avoid treading on toes.

"I just spoke to Cap, and he agreed we could head off in about an hour," said Rhodey, coming to stand next to them.

"Fuck yeah," said Tony, grinning. "And then the after-party can begin."

"The what?" asked Clint. "You mean, we don't just get to go to bed?"

"Nope," said Tony. "Come on, this is why I got the giant suite-"

"Also, you're a pretentious asshole," put in Rhodey, and was ignored.

"-so that we could head back afterwards, close all the blinds, and chill without having all these eyes watching us."

Clint considered. "Wait, does that mean we get to raid your mini-bar?"

"Of course," said Tony. "That's what mini-bars are for, isn't it?"

Clint grinned. "Awesome."

****

The so-called after-party went exactly as Clint would have expected. Tony raided the mini-bar and handed booze out to anyone who'd take it, then they all slumped on sofas, trying to drown out the boredom they'd just suffered through.

"So, Barnes, how was your first fancy shindig?" asked Tony.

Bucky had pulled Clint down onto a sofa where he could wrap a hand around his wrist. He considered the question. "Three different people asked if I was there when Steve punched Hitler.”

Steve groaned and put his head in his hands. "Will that one never die?"

"What did you tell them?" asked Natasha.

"I told them that I was right by his side when he did, and I punched Goering in the face at the same time," said Bucky, with a grin.

Steve groaned again, louder. Clint laughed and held out a fist for Bucky to bump.

"I think I need another t-shirt," he said. " _My soulmate's punched more Nazis than yours._ "

Sam pointedly cleared his throat. Clint rolled his eyes at him. "Eh, works on almost everyone."

"You know, most people don't count 'old enough to have punched Nazis' as a good thing," said Tony.

"Most people are nuts," said Clint. He caught Sam's eye. "You're with me, right?"

"Oh yeah," said Sam, nodding. "Nothing like being linked to a geriatric. Aged to perfection, right?"

Steve let out a long sigh. "I'm not a geriatric," he said. "And I didn't punch that many more Nazis than the others."

"You really did," said Bucky. "It was kinda awesome."

Clint drank until the room was a bit spinny, then slumped into Bucky's body. Bucky moved his arm so that he could wrap it around Clint's shoulders, pulling him in close.

"Are you drunk again?"

"Yup," said Clint, happily. "Drunk and snuggly, you should take advantage."

Bucky snorted. "You're snuggly most of the time when you're sober too."

"Oh, if you don't like it," said Clint and tried to get up, but Bucky held him in place.

"Nope, it's fine," he said. "You snuggle away."

Clint turned into his shoulder to nuzzle into Bucky's neck, pushing his nose right in close and snuffling wetly, which made Bucky twitch and flinch away.

"Aw man, what did I do to deserve this?" Bucky muttered.

Tony cleared his throat meaningfully, then wilted when three different people turned glares on him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm shutting up now."

"Damn straight you are," said Clint. "Don't go adding to his emo."

"I'm not emo," said Bucky. "Stop saying that."

"Your eye make-up says differently," said Clint, reaching up to pat his cheek.

"That wasn't make-up," said Bucky, grabbing Clint's hand and then just holding his fingers so that he couldn't reach for him again. "That was- I don't know, camouflage or something. And that was Hydra; they decided what I wore."

Clint sniggered. "Hydra wanted to have the emoest assassin." He frowned. "Most emo?"

"Either that, or they wanted a raccoon," put in Sam.

Clint turned to stare at him, feeling his face light up. "Yes! Oh, yes, Bucky, that's it! We'll make you the Winter Raccoon, that'll make you _way_ more media friendly."

"I can sort you out a new costume with paws and a tail," offered Tony.

Bucky growled. "No," he said, then moved Clint aside to stand up. Clint sprawled backwards into the space he'd left, grinning up at him.

"Time for bed," said Bucky.

"Oh yeah, sounds good," said Clint. "Wait, you do mean bed as in sex, right?"

Bucky shut his eyes and let out a very long sigh. "I don't know, think you're sober enough for that?"

"Always," said Clint, trying to sit up and struggling a bit with it.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, then bent down, grabbed hold of Clint and throwing him over his shoulder as easily as if he were a sack of flour. Clint blinked past the dizziness of the sudden movement and wondered if he should be so turned on by being manhandled.

"Winter Raccoon is so strong," he said to the small of Bucky's back.

"Call me that again and I'll drop you," said Bucky.

Clint carefully shut his mouth and mimed zipping his lips.

Bucky glanced at Tony. "We're the only ones on this floor, right? No one going to catch sight of me toting my soulmate to bed?"

Tony shook his head. "It's all good, tote away. Night, Katniss."

"Night, Daddy Warbucks," said Clint, which made Tony choke on his drink. "Night, everyone."

Bucky didn't set Clint down until they were back in their room. Clint probably could have walked just fine on his own but he wasn't about to complain at the impressive display of strength. When Bucky dropped him down onto the bed in their room, he collapsing backwards to sprawl out and grinned up at him.

“I have the best soulmate,” he said, happily.

"I've only seen you this drunk once before," said Bucky, taking off Clint's shoes for him, "and Stark was around for that as well. Should I be stopping you from hanging out with him?"

Clint held up a finger. "Rule number one. If the billionaire is paying for the booze, drink until you can't see."

Bucky didn't look convinced by that but Clint figured he had plenty of time to talk him around. He struggled out of his jacket, refusing to sit up to take it off. Maybe not his best plan, he thought as he tried to pull his arm out from the Chinese finger trap his sleeve had become once it was half off and caught up somewhere behind his back.

“Oh for- Come here,” said Bucky, rescuing him.

“My hero,” said Clint, letting him get the jacket out of the way.

"You know, Stark's not wrong," said Bucky as Clint pulled at his bow-tie and threw it on the floor. "You look a lot better half out of a tux than you do all done up neat."

Clint undid his shirt buttons and pulled it open, then sprawled back with as much of a come hither look as he could manage. "Like what you see, stud?"

Bucky gave him an up-and-down. "Yeah, guess so," he said. He leant over to kiss Clint, bending low enough for Clint to put his arms around him and keep him in place for a rather longer kiss than he thought Bucky had been intending. Bucky didn't fight it, so he figured he was okay.

"Enough," said Bucky, when he finally pulled away. "C'mon, you're gonna pass out in your pants."

Clint shrugged at the idea, but obligingly let Bucky go.

"I like where this is going," he said, lifting his legs so that Bucky could pull his pants off.

Bucky snorted. "Don't get too excited. We ain't having sex."

Clint pulled in a gasp of shock, clutching his hands to his chest. "What?! No, don't hurt me like this!"

Bucky turned to fold Clint's pants and drape them over a chair. "If you think we can have sex without leaving any hint or clue for whoever changes the bedsheets, then sure. Otherwise, no deal. Just friends, remember?"

Clint rolled over to crawl under the blankets. "Aw, I'm sure we could..." He paused and considered. He and Bucky were never particularly neat about fucking. "Yeah, okay," he said with a sigh, settling back against the pillows. "We can cuddle though, right?"

"Yeah, don't panic, I wouldn't deprive you of that," said Bucky. "Just give me a minute to get ready."

Clint watched with appreciation as Bucky undressed. "You know, you look awesome both ways," he said. "All suave and polished, and all undressed and dishevelled. But then, I guess, you pretty much look hot whatever you do. Even as an emo raccoon, you're a sexy emo raccoon."

"That started as a compliment and then you lost track," said Bucky, lifting the covers to climb in next to Clint.

Clint rolled over to drape himself over him, nestling his head into Bucky's shoulder. "Sexy emo raccoon is totally a compliment."

Bucky's metal arm went around his shoulders. Clint wondered when he got so used to be cuddled by metal, then gave up on caring in favour of wriggling his leg between Bucky's. He let his eyes drop shut, perfectly warm and comfortable, and then had a thought.

"Aw, aids," he muttered. Taking them out was going to mean moving, which sounded like a terrible idea.

Bucky let out a faint snigger. "I can get them," he offered. "If that'd be okay."

"More than okay," said Clint. "Means I don't have to move. Never want to move."

Bucky laughed at him again and then, very carefully, unhooked Clint's hearing aids and put them on the bedside table. The world went silent and Clint let out a long sigh, feeling the last part of his tension relax away.

"G'night," he muttered. As far as he could tell, Bucky didn't bother answering.

****

Clint woke up feeling groggy but not as hungover as he could have been, given that he'd been drinking with Tony Stark. He felt out for Bucky, then turned his head to frown at the empty space beside him. That wasn't right.

His eyes focused slightly further and he realised there was a shape in the other bed.

"What the hell?" he muttered.

Bucky rolled over and signed at him. _Morning_.

Clint raised his head and gestured at the two beds. "What?" he said.

Bucky rolled his eyes. _Two beds need to be slept in,_ he signed, slowly.

"Oh, fuck that," muttered Clint, pulling himself out of his bed. He grabbed his hearing aids as he stumbled across the gap between the beds, and then dove into Bucky's bed. "You don't have a soulmate and then sleep alone," he said, tucking his aids into his ears. Once he didn't need to be looking to know what Bucky was saying, he wrapped himself around him.

“Just like you don't declare something a military secret and then make it blindingly obvious to the nearest chamber maid?” asked Bucky. “I'm beginning to think your claim to be a super-stealthy spy is bullshit.”

“You're bullshit,” muttered Clint, because he'd woken up alone and was now grumpy. “Shut up and be cuddled, and maybe I'll forgive you. Once I've had coffee, can't forgive anyone before coffee.” Except, there was a hand gently stroking through his hair and an arm wrapped around his waist so, actually, he was pretty close to forgiveness without even a sniff of caffeine. 

“Can't cuddle too long,” said Bucky. “I've got that interview, remember?”

“Ugh,” said Clint.

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky. “Think anyone will notice if I skip it?”

“Erika will hunt you down and take you apart,” said Clint. “Trust me, better to just suck it up.”

Bucky sighed. “Don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be telling people anyway.”

Clint shrugged. “Just blather about nothing, make a couple of weak jokes, pretend to be normal. It's what we all do.”

“Ain't no way on earth I can pretend to be 'normal',” said Bucky. “Jesus, who would buy that?”

“Fine,” said Clint. “Pretend to be well-adjusted or something. I don't know, I tend to get away with just making a couple of puns and then flexing my biceps.”

The hand in his hair travelled down to stroke over said biceps. “Yeah, that always works on me,” said Bucky. “Not sure metal would work the same, though.”

Clint shrugged loosely against him. “Just work the sexy emo ra-”

“No,” said Bucky, cutting him off. “That's not becoming a thing. Shut up.”

Clint just smiled. Sam had said it in front of Tony last night; there was no way it was going away.

There was silence for a few minutes as Clint tried to find the strength to get up and go in search of coffee, and then Bucky said, in a quiet voice, “You had a chance to think about what Stark said yesterday?”

Clint moved back so he could see Bucky's face, propping himself up on an elbow. “A bit,” he said. “Have you?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don't know. I don't- My first reaction is the same as Steve's. I don't want anyone, not even someone claiming to be on my side, messing with my head again.”

“I get that,” said Clint.

“Right,” said Bucky. “But. Well, I'm still a danger if I don't, right?” He ran a hand up over Clint's forehead, across his head. “I coulda shot you,” he said. “I did shoot Sam. I killed agents. I should be doing everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen again. I can't-" Bucky stopped and let out a huff of breath. "I don't know."

"There's plenty of time to think it over," said Clint.

"Yeah," agreed Bucky, quietly.

They were silent for another few minutes, then the room phone rang.

"Ugh," said Clint, raising himself to answer it. "Yeah?"

"Come up to my room for breakfast," said Tony.

"Not sure I'm interested in moving right now," said Clint. “I mean, I've got a sexy emo raccoon here, what've you got?”

There was an amused laugh. "I have coffee," said Tony. "Cap says to tell you Erika's coming here to meet Count Rugen before his interview."

Clint sighed, then glanced at Bucky. "It better be damned good coffee.”

"C'mon," said Tony. "This is me. It's fucking awesome coffee."

He hung up and Clint put the receiver down, looking at Bucky. "Bad news. We're gonna have to get up."

Bucky made a face but sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. "Are we gonna fight over who gets the bathroom first?"

"Nah," said Clint, grinning at him. "Did you see the size of the shower? We're gonna share."

****

Tony had more than coffee in his suite, he had a whole breakfast buffet. Most of the other Avengers had already found their way there to pick it over. Clint concentrated on downing as much coffee as he could, collapsing on a sofa and watching as Steve tried to talk Bucky through how to give an interview without coming across as a maniac. Bucky was becoming more and more nervous, which showed itself in tightened fists, tense movements, and an emotionless mask. He looked about three steps away from a murder spree. This was going to go so well.

Erika swept in with a clothing bag draped over her arm. She fixed her gaze on Bucky, who twitched. "You!" she said. "Are you ready?"

Bucky's jaw clenched and he ducked a nod that might as well have been a scream of denial.

She sniffed, looked him up and down and then thrust the bag at him. "Put these on."

He took it with a frown. “What's wrong with what I'm wearing?” He was in his usual non-fighting outfit of jeans, boots and a hoodie.

“There are going to be photos,” she said. “You look like-” She caught the fierce glare he was giving her and cleared her throat. “Well, that outfit won't work well on camera, anyway.”

Bucky let out a sigh but took the bag into the bathroom to change.

"What time are we due to go back to the base?" asked Wanda.

"Probably early afternoon," said Steve.

She nodded and glanced at Vision. "Want to have a look around Chicago?"

"I haven't seen this city before," he agreed.

"Don't do anything that will fuck up our good PR from last night," said Erika. "No blowing buildings up or terrorising children."

"Don't worry," said Vision. "We'll be exemplary ambassadors for the Avengers."

They left while Clint was still picturing all the things that could go wrong.

Bucky came back out of the bathroom with a scowl. "I don't see how this is so different to what I was already wearing."

"That's because you're a philistine," said Erika, looking him over. "I'm sure Clint could enlighten you."

Bucky looked over at Clint, who gave him a grin. "You look really hot," he explained.

The jeans Erika had provided were just tight enough to make Bucky's thighs look fabulous and she'd given him a grey Henley that clung over his chest and shoulders and hung open to reveal the edges of his collarbones, which was kinda making Clint want to lick them.

Bucky looked back down at himself. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," said Clint. "Hey, turn around so I can check out your ass properly."

Bucky crossed his arms. "No."

"Aw, come on," said Clint. "Let me ogle my soulmate."

"I'm being objectified," said Bucky.

"Damn straight you are," said Clint, and got a glare.

"Okay, enough banter. You," said Erika, pointing at Clint, "get out of here. You," she said, turning her gaze on Bucky, "come with me."

"Why do I have to go?" asked Clint. "I was going to hang out, provide moral support."

She shook her head. "That's exactly why. Steve can get away with that but we're going to get questions if there's a whole support network for him, and you're not exactly being subtle about checking out his assets."

Clint tore his eyes away from the way the shirt highlighted Bucky's shoulders. "I can be good."

"You should go, Clint. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him," said Steve.

Bucky sighed. "Don't actually need a minder."

Erika snorted. "You all need a minder," she said. "Today, I'm going to be yours. We're going to go through all the questions they're likely to ask and make sure you have answers worked out."

Bucky's shoulder slumped. "Oh man," he muttered, but followed her into one of the suite's bedrooms, sending a final, unhappy glance over his shoulder at Clint.

Clint gave him a thumbs up and took his chance to check out Bucky's ass. Oh yeah, that looked really good in those jeans. He had to make sure Bucky kept hold of those after this.

Sam stood up. "C'mon, Clint, we'll go out and- I don't know. Look at Chicago. Have you been here before?"

Clint shrugged. "Only to blow stuff up. And I think the circus came through a couple of times." On paper he was very well travelled but the number of places he'd actually had a chance to look around was very small.

"I know Chicago," said Rhodey, also getting up. "I'll show you guys around."

****

Sam, Rhodey and Clint were probably the three least recognisable Avengers, which meant no one took any notice of them as they wandered around the city centre and then down along the edge of the lake. Clint was willing to bet that Wanda and Vision weren't finding it as easy to travel incognito. Well, unless one of them was doing some kind of magic or science-so-advanced-as-to-seem-like-magic to hide them, but that was cheating, right?

They were walking along past the harbour while Clint tried to explain to the other two just how good he was with boats without giving away any classified mission information when he felt a prickle between his shoulder blades. Someone was watching them.

He took a careful look around, gazing out as if taking in the view, but couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. He turned back to the front, trying to look casual, and concentrated as they carried on towards the aquarium. Yeah, there. Someone was watching.

"Can you feel that?" he asked.

Rhodey and Sam glanced at him. "Feel what?"

"Someone's watching us," said Clint.

They both blinked and then Rhodey actually started to turn around.

"Don't look!" hissed Clint. "Christ, have some sense of stealth."

"Sorry, man, I haven't been trained into a hyper-vigilant and paranoid spy," said Rhodey. "You realise there are tons of people around, right?"

"We might just have been recognised," said Sam.

Clint shook his head, "Nah, this doesn't feel like that." He moved slightly ahead so that when he turned back as if listening to Sam, he could see back over his shoulder. He ran his eyes over the view and, yeah, there. A man in a dark jacket and a baseball hat, lingering about fifty feet back. He ducked his head as Clint looked, clearly hiding his face.

"We've got a tail," he said, looking back at Rhodey and Sam. "Question is, do we ignore it, or confront him?"

"Confront him," said Sam. "Come on, we can't go letting guys trail around after us."

Rhodey shook his head. "If we confront him, he'll just say he thought he recognised us, or deny all knowledge. We should wait and see if we can work out what he's following us for."

Clint nodded. "Or if he's only following one of us." A quick check showed that the guy was still behind them, walking the other side of a line of trees to try and hide himself.

They'd reached the steps leading up into the aquarium, which Clint judged to be a good place to pause and pretend they were debating where to go next.

"He's keeping his face well-hidden," he said. "I wonder if that means we'd know him if we saw it?"

"How about we all split up?" said Rhodey. "Head off in different directions, see which one he follows, then the other two can come up behind him and get a good look."

Clint nodded. "Seems like a plan." He raised an eyebrow. "If you guys think you can handle the subterfuge."

"Fuck off, Spymaster General," said Sam. "We can manage."

"Then go forth and be stealthy fucks," said Clint, and turned to climb up the stairs towards the aquarium.

He paused at the top and stopped by a pillar to look out over the view, noting that Sam had gone off in the direction of the Natural History Museum, while Rhodey was heading for a bench that looked out over the harbour. The guy following them was leaning against a tree, looking down at his phone.

Right, they needed to bait him a bit more then. Clint turned and headed into the aquarium lobby, dodging around a clump of excited children. He didn't join one of the queues at the desk but did casually wander over to pick up a leaflet, keeping an eye on the entrance. There was no sign of the guy.

He took out his own phone and aimed it up at the clock above his head for a photo but there was only so long he could kill time in the lobby without needing to either go in or go back. If the guy hadn't followed him in by now, he probably wasn't going to. Time to head back outside and see if he'd gone after one of the others.

The man was sat on a wall at the top of the steps, hat pulled down low and his phone still in his hand, but he wasn't looking at it. He was watching the entrance, right where Clint came out.

Okay, seriously, why the hell would anyone want to follow Clint?

And why did he look vaguely familiar? Damn it, Clint did know him from somewhere. If he'd just take that hat off, Clint would be able to peg him.

He didn't get any time for that, though. The guy had clearly clocked that he'd been made. He looked over at a gang of teenagers and said something Clint couldn't make out. The teenagers all turned and stared at Clint as the guy swivelled his legs over to the other side of the wall, dropping down and out of sight.

Clint started down the steps to follow him just as one of the teenagers said, "Oh man, it _is_ Hawkeye!"

Oh, well played. Clint was surrounded in moments by a hoard of excited kids, half of them fumbling for paper so they could get his autograph.

"Hawkeye! Hawkeye!"

"Do you have your bow with you?"

“Are the other Avengers here?”

He pinned a smile on and glanced over at where Rhodey had been sat. He'd disappeared, which Clint hoped meant he'd caught what had happened and was on the guy's trail.

"Can you sign this for my mum? She loves you," said the nearest kid, pushing a scrap of paper into Clint's hands.

Clint gave up and turned his attention to the crowd starting to form around him. "What's her name?" he asked, taking the paper and resigning himself to being trapped there for a while.

Five minutes and about a hundred autographs and selfies later, Rhodey walked back into view with Sam behind him. He looked up at Clint and shook his head. Great, they'd lost him.

Clint shook off the fans as politely as he could manage, then headed down to Rhodey and Sam.

“He had a car,” said Sam.

“We couldn't get close enough to see his face before he vanished,” added Rhodey.

Clint sighed. “Right, okay. Time to head back, I think.”

When they got back to the hotel, Bucky was done with his interview. Clint waited until Erika had left before telling him and Steve about the tail.

“Why the hell would anyone want to target you?” asked Bucky, slinging an arm around Clint's shoulders.

Clint shrugged. “Mistaken identity? Except he clearly knew who I was, cuz he used it to get those kids to distract me.”

Steve shook his head. “Not much we can do except keep an eye out for anything else odd and hope for more information to turn up.”

Clint nodded, then shrugged. “It's probably nothing.”

Bucky's grip around his shoulders tightened. “It better be,” he muttered. “Or that guy's not going to know what hit him. I'm not letting anyone touch you.”

Clint gave him a careful look, noticing just how tense he was, as if already contemplating crushing bones. Bucky had managed to pull himself together so well in the wake of Hydra, even after the second time they'd had him, that it was easy to forget just how much he was still working through, and how close he sometimes was to letting it all overwhelm him. As much as Clint wouldn't change a single detail about their relationship, he couldn't help feeling sometimes that it would have been easier for Bucky without the added stress of having an all-too-breakable soulmate.

“Hey, how about we get the guys to drop us off at the farm on the way back to the base?” he suggested. “I've been meaning to get a start on the dining room floor.”

Bucky gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Clint was doing, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

A few days of peace and quiet would do them both good, thought Clint. And there was no way in hell any stalker was going to find him there.

****

An Interview With The Winter Soldier

 

There are a number of Avengers, past and present, who could be described as an enigma, but none more so than Bucky Barnes. Born in 1917 and presumed dead in 1945, the childhood friend of Captain America sensationally returned to life last year when he was discovered to have been brainwashed and cryogenically frozen by the neo-Nazi group Hydra.

Since then, he has kept to the Avengers base, only being seen in public while fighting with the Avengers, until this exclusive interview.

Barnes is economical with his words and not prone to smiles, but there's a certain dry level of humour that almost seems at odds with his air of seriousness. Every so often, mostly when talking about Steve Rogers, there's a twinkle in his eye that makes you realise you're in the presence of a genuine 1940s pin-up.

_How have you been settling in with the other Avengers?_  
Fine. It's been good working with a team again.

_You've been working alone since the Second World War?_  
Yeah, I guess you could say that. Back then, Steve and I were with a unit of guys.

_The Howling Commandos. How similar would you say working with the Avengers is to that?_  
Well, none of the Commandos were cyborgs or could throw fire, but I guess it's not so different. Same sense of camaraderie.

_Is it the same working with Steve now as it was back then?_  
I guess so. I mean, he's changed a bit, but I guess we both have. He's always been a great team leader, he's only got better.

_You're currently in Chicago for the reception the Mayor threw for you. How was that?_  
It was good. Pretty fancy, which I haven't really done a lot of, so that was different. It was real nice of the mayor to invite us.

_How are you liking Chicago?_  
You're kidding right? I haven't seen it. The others have all gone out to have a look around today, but I'm trapped in here with you.

_Sorry! Doesn't sound like you're a fan of interviews, then._  
Is anyone?

_I guess not. What kind of things are you a fan of, then? What do you like doing in your spare time?_  
I don't know that I get a lot of spare time. I practise shooting a lot, and sparring and that kinda thing, but I guess that's just part of the job. I've got a lot of catching up to do, same as Steve, so we watch a lot of movies and TV, some documentaries. I play computer games with some of the guys – not Steve, he hates them.

_I heard you're a fan of_ Dog Cops.  
Yeah, that's true. Well, seemed to be a thing, everyone watches it. Last night, Stark started telling me all about some theory he's got that the whole show is a metaphor for the alienation of authority figures by- I can't remember, it didn't make any sense to me.

_So,_ Dog Cops _and computer games. What else do you like about the modern world?_  
I don't know. Everyone seems to ask that like it's a completely different universe, but take the technology away and it's not so different from when we grew up. I guess it's good being able to have Sam and Rhodey on the team without Steve having to have a bust-up with top brass about it. And Wanda and Natasha not having to play second fiddle.

_Did Steve use to argue with the higher-ups a lot, then?_  
Oh yeah, way more often than all that propaganda about him suggests. (He winces.) I'm probably not meant to be saying that, but it's true. He gets pretty antagonistic when he's standing up for what he believes in.

_That's probably a defining trait of being Captain America, though. What would you say was a defining trait of being the Winter Soldier?_  
A defining trait? Jesus, I don't know. I guess I should be saying something about righting wrongs or protecting the innocent, but mostly it's probably just really wanting to shoot Hydra in the face.

_And watching_ Dog Cops _?_  
Yeah, sure, why not? I bet Sergeant Whiskers would shoot Hydra in the face, given half a chance.

 

“Okay,” said Clint, putting down the tablet he'd been reading the article on, “I'm not saying that Sergeant Whiskers wouldn't shoot Hydra in the face, but-”

“Shut up,” growled Bucky. They were on the massive new sofa that Clint had got for the farm once he'd realised that the one he had was too small for them both to properly stretch out on, which meant Bucky had taken the chance to pretty much lie on top of Clint as he'd read out the article. 

“I already got all this from Erika. Along with a long speech about why we're not meant to tell the media how much we hate them, as if that's any secret.” He picked the tablet up and flicked through to the pictures, making a face. “Christ, these photos,” he muttered. “I look like a goon.”

“Genuine 1940s pin-up,” said Clint, and then sniggered.

Bucky glared at him, then dropped the tablet and wrapped his arms around him, holding Clint down and pressing his forehead to Clint's. “I said, shut up.”

Clint grinned up at him, wriggling into a more comfortable position under him and putting his arms around Bucky's waist. “Make me.”

“Easy,” said Bucky, leaning in and kissing him.


	3. Chapter 3

Of course, it was all too easy to mock Bucky's attempt at creating good publicity, but four days later it was Clint's turn. They headed back to base the day before, leaving the dining room floor only half finished because Bucky was too good at distracting Clint from getting work done. Totally not Clint's fault for keeping him in bed for hours every morning, nope. All Bucky.

They were the only ones in the kitchen that morning as Clint glumly looked over the notes for his speech over breakfast. “I fucking hate archery kids,” he told Bucky.

“I'da thought you'd be all about passing on your useless, out-dated skills to the next generation,” said Bucky.

Clint spared him a glare. “It's not useless or out-dated just because I'm better at it than you. And the next generation would be fine, I'm all up for that, but these are stupidly competitive kids, usually with way too much money and terrifyingly over-bearing parents.”

Bucky stared at him, then raised one eyebrow. “Stupidly competitive. Like the guy who has a list of every projectile weapon since the dawn of time and is making me work through it so we can decide who's the ultimate sharpshooter?”

“That's not competition,” said Clint. “That's _flirting_. And you're not exactly screaming out about how much you hate it.”

“Ah, but I'm happy to admit my competitiveness,” said Bucky. “You seem to be in denial.”

“I'm not comp-” started Clint.

“Last one to down their coffee is a useless loser,” said Bucky quickly, then started chugging his mug.

Clint grabbed his and poured it down his throat so fast he almost choked, desperately trying to ignore the burning as he killed off half his taste buds. And most of his oesophagus. “Done,” he croaked, slamming the mug down a fraction of a second before Bucky. “Ha! Never take me on at a coffee-related thing, I'm always going to win that.”

“And you're not competitive at all,” said Bucky.

Clint coughed, then winced at how much that hurt. “Oh man, that really fucked my throat up, maybe not the best plan ever before a public speaking thing.”

“You sound like you either have a really bad cold or you deep-throated half the base last night,” said Bucky. “That's gonna make Erika happy.”

“Morning,” said Sam, wandering in. “You two are up early.”

“I've got to get to Cincinnati, for this stupid junior archery thing,” said Clint, then coughed again. Maybe some water would help.

Sam stared at him, then glanced over at Bucky. “Dude, do I even want to know why he sounds like that?”

“You really don't,” said Bucky, giving him a shit-eating grin and a sleazy wink.

Clint sighed. “I drank my coffee too fast.”

Sam snorted. “No way, man. You drink your coffee too fast every morning, you never usually end up sounding like a chain-smoker.”

Clint cleared his throat again, then winced as it felt like the top layer of his throat was peeling off. “Water,” he muttered, and got up to go to the sink. He felt vaguely betrayed. Coffee was meant to be on his side, how could it hurt him like this?

Sam shook his head as he headed to the coffee machine. “Aren't you meant to be giving a speech today?”

“Oh yeah,” said Bucky, clearly trying not to laugh. “Nice long one.”

Clint gulped down some water, which didn't help as much as he'd hoped, then glared over his shoulder. “Quit laughing at me, this is your fault.”

“I really, really don't want to know,” said Sam.

“Hey, you make your own choices,” said Bucky. “You could have said no. You know, if you didn't mind letting me win.”

“I'm going to need brain bleach by the end of this conversation, aren't I?” said Sam, pretty much to himself.

Clint took another gulp of water. “How come your throat is fine?” he asked Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “Super-soldier throat.”

“Yep, there it is,” said Sam. “Definite brain bleach needed for those mental images.”

“Oh, like you don't enjoy your own super-soldier's throat on occasion,” muttered Clint which, of course, was when Steve walked in, caught what he was saying, and went bright red.

Bucky burst out into loud laughter. Clint let out a sigh and contemplated just going back to bed. Except Erika would kill him if he did that.

He swallowed, then winced. That really hurt. “Do we have any ice?”

“Is it that bad?” asked Bucky.

Clint just nodded and poured himself another glass of water.

Bucky made a face and got up, heading for the freezer. “Okay, now I feel bad.”

“Why?” asked Steve, and then shook his head. “No, wait, I really, really don't want to know what you've done to him.”

“Why does everyone assume it was a sex thing?” asked Clint.

“Because we've met you?” suggested Sam, handing Steve a cup of coffee.

Bucky emerged from the freezer with an ice cube tray, which he handed to Clint. “Sorry,” he said as Clint pressed a cube out and put it in his mouth to suck on. “I guess I didn't think that one through.”

Clint shook his head. “You're used to super-healing,” he said. “I'm the moron who should have known better.” He coughed. Fuck, that hurt, he needed to stop doing that.

Bucky put his hand on Clint's shoulder, rubbing down over his arm. He frowned, then turned away. “Honey,” he said. “We gotta have honey, right? That'll help. It's great for burns.”

“Wait,” said Sam. “You actually burned yourself on coffee?”

Clint nodded miserably, swallowing down the last of the ice cube. “I love coffee. Why would it hurt me like this?”

Steve just stared at him as Bucky pulled out a jar of honey and a teaspoon. “I don't even know where to start with that.”

Bucky sent him a glare. “Don't start at all then,” he said, handing a full teaspoon of honey to Clint, who happily sucked on it. Mmm, an excuse to eat honey straight from the jar. Awesome. “It's not like you never did stupid shit as a kid.”

“He's not a kid,” Steve pointed out.

Clint pulled the spoon out of his mouth. “Young enough to be your grandson,” he reminded him, then took another spoonful out of the jar Bucky was still holding.

****

Clint tended to change his mind on what was the best part of being an Avenger on a daily basis, but today he was definitely going for being able to use a quinjet to nip about the country. If he'd had to drive down to Cincinnati, he'd probably have had to have stayed a couple of nights there rather than just rocking up on the morning of this thing. That would have been an enormous pain in the ass.

Bucky walked him down to the quinjet pad. They both paused before Clint got on the plane.

“You'll keep an eye out for any more creepy guys following you?” said Bucky.

Clint nodded. “Can't see anyone bothering to follow me to something this dull, though.”

Bucky fixed him with a glare. “Better safe than sorry. I ain't in the mood to have to come rescue you.”

“I won't need rescuing,” said Clint, maybe a bit flippantly if the look Bucky gave him was anything to go by. Clint held his fist out. “See you, Barnes.”

Bucky snorted and shook his head, but obligingly fistbumped him. “Try not to let the archery kids take you down,” he said.

“Nah, I can totally take them,” said Clint. “It's the parents I'm most worried about.”

“Right,” said Bucky. He pulled a dented keyring out of his pocket and offered it to Clint. “Better take a luck charm.”

Clint grinned. “Aw, you do love me,” he said, taking it from him. “Promise you'll get both of us back, safe and sound, in time for dinner.”

“I better,” said Bucky. “Not really interested in trying to find another moron with a Palaeolithic stick for the team.”

“Just for the team?” asked Clint, raising an eyebrow.

“Now you're just fishing,” said Bucky. He gave Clint a kiss. “See you, Barton,” he said, and headed back inside.

The organisers had left Clint an empty bit of the parking lot to land the quinjet in. He made a careful vertical landing into the space, very aware that he was being watched by everyone who was parking up for the competition. Best not to scratch anyone's paintwork.

A handful of officials gathered outside the quinjet as he did the post-landing checks. Clint eyed them through the windscreen and debated the merits of just taking back off and running for the hills. God, he hated this bullshit so much.

Instead, he strapped on his quiver and bow -got to look the part- put his hand in his pocket and gave the keyring a quick squeeze, then pinned on a smile as he stepped out.

"Mr. Barton," an officious-looking man greeted him, putting his hand out. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Tom Grant."

"Hi," said Clint, shaking his hand. "Please, call me Clint."

Oh man, his throat was still wrecked. He sounded like he was talking through a bucket of gravel.

Tom gave him a concerned look, then introduced the other organisers, all of whom Clint smiled at, shook hands with, and instantly forgot the names of.

"It's great to meet you all. It's an honour to be invited," he lied.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" asked a woman, frowning. "You sound like you've got a cold. Can we get you some medicine?"

"It's smoke inhalation," lied Clint. "There was an incident, I can't really talk about it." He cleared his throat and winced at the pain. "I'm fine," he said as they exchanged glances, and then had a brain wave. "Just, uh, I'm not really meant to be doing a whole lot of talking, so I'll only be able to give a very short speech, just a couple of sentences really."

"Oh," said Tom, glancing at the woman with a panicked look. "Oh, well, of course, if you're injured."

"Maybe one of us could talk instead?" suggested the woman, doubtfully. There were several shared looks of horror at the idea and at least one person towards the back of the group quietly sidled away.

"I could do some fancy shooting or something," offered Clint. "I'm a lot better at that than talking anyway."

Relief suffused their faces. "Oh yes, that would work," said Tom.

"Sounds lovely," said the woman, shoulders relaxing.

Clint grinned at them both, restraining himself from doing a fistpump. Oh yeah, he'd got out of having to give a speech in favour of getting to show off to a bunch of kids who would be able to appreciate just how epic his shooting skills were. That was more than worth a bit of throat pain.

He should never have doubted coffee. Clearly, it had been working for his benefit the whole time.

****

He spent the day being shown around the various ranges, watching the competitions and taking advantage of his throat to not to have to come up with too many comments about the whole thing. He kept an eye out, but there didn't seem to be anyone in the crowds who wasn't here for the competition, or who was more interested in Clint than they should be.

He got a text from Bucky just after he'd sat through lunch, making small talk and silently hoping for an Avengers call-out.

_If you're looking as bored as you're feeling, you're gonna get rage from Erika._

Clint immediately had to resist the temptation to read his own print and see what Bucky was feeling. There were too many eyes around for him to get away with that.

_Please, you're talking to an expert in undercover operations,_ Clint sent back. _Pretending to give a shit about the problems that professional archery is facing is much easier than infiltrating the Russian mafia._

_I'm calling bullshit,_ Bucky replied a few minutes later. _Russian mafia would be easier. You just punch a few guys and you're in._

_I think you're discounting the importance of tattoos,_ sent back Clint. _They're a massive hassle._

There was a pause as Clint was taken to watch the finals of the under-something whatsit category and, yeah, he was totally paying attention. Well, he was eyeing up their bows. There were several that he'd have been extremely jealous of when he was their age. Now, of course, he had the only bow ever built by Tony Stark, weapons genius, which was possibly the coolest piece of equipment anyone would ever own. Ever.

_I suspect you'd look hot with tattoos,_ was the eventual reply from Bucky. _In fact, I've got a spare hour, I might head back to bed and take some time to carefully consider just how hot. Maybe don't read me for a bit, yeah?_

Aw man, and now Clint was going to be thinking about Bucky jerking off in their bed all afternoon.

_Bastard_ , he sent back, and left it at that.

He had to present about a hundred medals to various winners, most of whom were so nervous that they couldn't really cope with shaking his hand, let alone actually talk to him. Afterwards, he cut the speech down to a paragraph, gave them all a wide smile, and then pulled his bow off his back with a sense of relief.

Doing archery tricks in front of an audience - even an audience that knew enough about shooting to take a bit to impress - was so familiar and easy that he barely needed to think about it.

He kinda thought he might be able to escape after that, but instead he got sat down at a table with a stack of photos and a handful of marker pens, signing autographs. Maybe he should have claimed an injured wrist as well as a fucked up throat.

It wasn't actually that bad. Most of the queue that formed were kids who looked at him with wide, excited eyes and enthusiastically told him how their favourite Avenger was, well, pretty much anyone but him. He nodded, smiled and kept scrawling his name.

"Your shooting was incredible," said a teenage boy as Clint signed one for him. "How did you get so good?"

Clint shrugged. "I'm probably meant to tell you hard work and dedication, but I've got to be honest, I've also got really great hand-eye coordination and spent a couple of years where I was either good or I was dead, which is some seriously awesome motivation."

The boy's eyes widened. "Wow," he said. "So, I should pretend that I'll get shot if I don't make a bullseye and then I'll be able to beat Mike Lovering?"

"Uh, maybe?" said Clint. "I mean, I guess it'd make practice more exciting, right?"

The kid nodded earnestly and then moved on, leaving Clint to hope that he wouldn't mention that conversation to anyone.

The girl behind him was a bit older and wearing a purple shirt that Clint eyed enviously. "Nice shirt."

She glanced down at it. "Uh, thanks," she said, clearly thrown.

"Purple's the best," said Clint, pulling a photo in front of himself. "What's your name?"

"Jessica," she said, and he scrawled _To Jessica, purple's the best, love Hawkeye_ and handed it over.

She stared at it then looked back up at him. "You should do Youtube videos," she blurted out.

Clint blinked. "Uh, about how awesome purple is?"

"No, of shooting tricks," she said. "That boy was right, you're really good."

"Oh, yeah!" said the girl behind her. "That would be epic. All the archery videos on Youtube are kinda lame."

"They're not that bad," said a boy next to her, but he sounded pretty doubtful.

The girl gave him a scornful look. "They're no way as good as what he did just now." She looked back at Clint as Jessica moved on and the line shuffled forward. "Have you ever looked? You're way more awesome."

"I am pretty awesome," agreed Clint. "Got to be honest, I've never looked at archery on Youtube. What's your name?"

"Jada," she said. "You should have a look, and then do better."

"That would be so incredible," said the boy as Clint signed Jada's photo. "Please do it, please, please, please."

Clint shrugged as he handed the photo over. Making videos of how awesome he was did sound like fun, but he had a sneaky feeling that it would end up getting him in trouble. "I'll see," he said.

"Oh my god, if you did it I would just _die_ ," said Jada, which would definitely get Clint into trouble.

****

His curiosity had been piqued, so once he'd escaped and the quinjet was on autopilot, he googled archery videos.

Aw man, those kids hadn't been wrong. These were feeble. They were the kind of shots that looked flashy but weren't that hard, performed by people who didn't seem to have any sense of showmanship and with irritatingly repetitive music over the top.

Nope, he couldn't let that rest. The internet should be aware of just how damn cool archery was.

_Are you going to have a PR meltdown if I make a couple of videos of trick shots and put them on Youtube?_ he sent Erica, and got a response within minutes.

_Are you kidding? I'd be over-joyed. I'd even ignore you ducking out of the speech today. Get a couple of the others to cameo and I might go as far as letting you off the third event you owe me, after you've done this deaf theatre thing._

Well, okay, that definitely made it worth doing, even if he didn't need to uphold the honour of archery.

When he arrived back at base, Bucky was waiting for him in the communal lounge, reading a book. He looked up at Clint when he came in and gave him a once-over.

"Still in one piece," said Clint. "The archery kids didn't tear me apart like a pack of wolves, despite all our fears. And I didn't see the guy from Chicago again."

Bucky's frown only deepened, and he stood up. "You talked too much," he said, and turned towards the kitchen. "Your throat sounds worse."

"It's not so bad," said Clint, following him over and leaning on the counter.

Bucky sent him a dark glare. "Stop talking."

Clint rolled his eyes. "I-"

"Stop!" interrupted Bucky. "Just sit there quietly for a moment, then we're going up on the roof."

Clint rolled his eyes, but obligingly kept his mouth shut. _Can I at least get changed first?_ he signed.

Bucky tracked his hands with an intense look of concentration that meant he hadn't quite got that, so Clint repeated it, slightly slower. Bucky was learning sign a lot quicker than Clint had expected, but he was still very new to it.

Bucky nodded. "Okay, yeah. Get changed, then come back."

Clint executed a crisp salute, which got him an eye-roll, then headed to their bedroom. He stripped off his uniform and replaced it with jeans and a t-shirt, then borrowed one of Bucky's hoodies and headed back to the kitchen.

Bucky put a mug in his hands when he got there and Clint brightened until he realised it wasn't coffee.

"Honey and ginger," said Bucky. "For your throat."

_Thank you_ , signed Clint. _It's pretty much okay, though._

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, I might believe that if I didn't know you. Or hadn't heard Natasha's story about you trying to walk off a bullet wound."

Clint rolled his eyes and took a sip of the drink, which turned out to feel really soothing on his throat.

_That's really good,_ he signed.

Bucky shrugged. "I used to make it for Steve when he was laid up with one of his endless ailments," he said. "Come on, up to the roof."

Clint nodded and followed him to the access ladder. When they'd rebuilt the base they'd done some fairly extensive remodelling but the place on the roof where Clint used to go to clear his head, and which Bucky had adopted for the same purpose, was still there.

They settled down together, side-by-side, looking out over the surrounding area. There was a small troop of new SHIELD agents jogging around the outside of the compound and a couple of support staff having a quick smoke by the quinjet pad.

Clint took another sip and gave Bucky a meaningful look. "Okay, we're here."

"Don't talk," said Bucky, then he paused and took a deep breath. "I've been thinking today."

_I thought you were masturbating,_ signed Clint. He didn't think Bucky had the vocabulary for 'masturbation', but it was a pretty obvious gesture.

Bucky clearly got it, from the look on his face. "Well, yeah, that too," he said. "But somehow I still found time to think." He cleared his throat. "About what Stark said. About wiping me, or whatever."

Ah. Yeah, this was definitely a rooftop conversation. Clint leaned in to rest his weight against Bucky's side and a moment later was rewarded with an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm thinking I'm gonna do it," said Bucky, in a low voice. "I don't wanna risk them taking me again."

Clint took a deep breath and nodded. He felt sick in his stomach at the thought of Bucky going through that, but part of him was also relieved that he wouldn't have to face down a mind-wiped Winter Soldier again. He turned and pressed a kiss to the side of Bucky's forehead, hoping that conveyed his support.

"I just wanted to ask you - will you be with me? While it's happening?" asked Bucky.

"Of course," said Clint, because screw using ASL, he needed to make sure that Bucky knew there was no way he'd leave him alone to face something this bad.

"Okay," said Bucky, ducking his head. "Okay. Good. If I'm doing this, then I don't want it to be all, strangers and scientists and that. Just you and Steve, and I guess I can't really escape Stark."

Clint nodded. _We can do that,_ he signed. _Steve will definitely be there for you._

"Yeah, okay," said Bucky. He took a deep breath. "I, uh. I was also thinking about the new trigger words Stark was talking about. I want you to come up with them. And be the one to- to implant them, or whatever, I don't want anyone else in my head."

Oh man, that was a lot of responsibility. But then, who the fuck else would Clint want to do that for Bucky? He nodded, drawing in a deep breath.

"Of course, man."

Bucky's shoulders relaxed. "Right, okay. Thanks. And stop talking, seriously, don't make me gag you."

Clint found a smirk from the tiny part of his brain that wasn't freaking out at the idea of Bucky going back into a chair. _That's not really a threat,_ he signed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Perv."

_Always,_ signed Clint.

****

Bucky spoke to Steve about it the next morning and then called Tony to ask him to start putting together the chair.

"He said it'll take about two weeks," said Bucky. "I guess we'll go down and do a weekend at his Tower, or something."

Clint nodded. “A long weekend in New York,” he said. “What could be better?”

"Not having my brain fucked with while I'm there," muttered Bucky.

He got increasingly broody over the next week or so, disappearing off to spend hours on the roof alone, or just slouching in front of _Call of Duty_ with a dark glower for anyone who tried to talk to him. His nightmares got worse as well, if the frequency with which he woke up with a start, knocking Clint out of sleep, was anything to go by. He only ever shook his head and sloped off to the bathroom to rub water over his face when Clint asked about them, which was probably fair. Clint never wanted to talk about his demons either.

He did what he could to keep Bucky distracted but it wasn't that easy, especially not when he could feel just how terrified Bucky was whenever he read his print.

"You can always change your mind," he whispered into Bucky's neck one night as they were lying curled up together.

Bucky just shook his head and clung on tighter.

In the absence of anything helpful that Clint could actually do, he wasted a few hours making a video of himself doing some trick shots. He found a stack of candles and laid them out in two lines so he could put them out with a couple of arrows, both shot at the same time. He hung a couple of bottles from ropes looped over tree branches, then shot straight through them from the end of the range. He put on a blindfold and shot a bullseye, remembering the first time he'd tried this trick and put an arrow straight through the window of the caravan that he and Barney had shared at the circus.

He got Bucky to film him, which worked great as a way to distract him, especially given that watching Clint shoot always tended to turn him on. After they'd got enough footage, they retreated to their suite, although they didn't get as far as the bedroom. Bucky fucked Clint on the sofa, gripping tightly at his bracer and muttering all kinds of filthy nonsense in his ear.

"I really, really love your archery kink," muttered Clint afterwards.

Bucky snorted, shifting to one side so that his full weight wasn't collapsed on Clint. "I can't help but think it's gonna backfire on us during a mission one day."

"As long as you wait to fuck me against a wall until after the hostiles are taken down, I'd probably be okay with that," said Clint. "Or, huh, I wonder if I could concentrate enough to shoot while you were sucking me off. Now _that_ would be a trick shot."

"You're not putting a video of that on the internet," said Bucky. "I don't care how many hits it would get."

Clint sent the footage off to Erika, who got someone to cut it together and post it to Youtube. Clint thought it looked pretty slick by the time it was done. Those kids should be impressed, even if no one else was.

Well, and Bucky, of course, but that was a different kind of impressed. The best kind of impressed, frankly.

Bucky wasn't the only one impressed. Within a day or two, the video had got what Erika assured Clint was an impressive amount of hits, ended up trending or whatever on the social media sites that he'd never really understood, and been briefly mentioned on a handful of gossip blogs.

Not bad. Apparently people were interested in archery videos after all. Now, how could he get the others involved with the next one so that Erika would let him off that other event he owed her?

****

The video opened with Clint grinning at the camera, bow in one hand and an apple in the other.

"Hi, guys," he said. "My last video seemed to be pretty popular, so I thought I'd do another, and I thought maybe it was time for possibly the most famous archery trick shot there is. The William Tell." He threw the apple up and caught it, one-handed.

"Uh, of course, I hope it goes without saying that you should never try this at home," he added. "Unless you've got a friend with super powers strong enough to not mind being shot in the face by accident."

"Wait, what?" said Sam, coming into shot behind him, wearing his full Avengers outfit. "I don't have super powers and I'll very much mind if you shoot me in the face."

"Ah, but I'm not going to," said Clint. "Come on, man. My shooting is awesome. You've seen me make way harder shots than this while injured and hanging upside down from a building."

"Right," said Sam, not sounding very sure.

Clint tossed the apple to him. "Go stand against that tree," he said, taking a few paces back as the camera zoomed out to show the wider area.

Sam walked to the tree and turned to stand with his back to it. He balanced the apple on his head, then gave the camera a nervous look.

"It's gonna be fine," promised Clint, raising his bow and drawing back. The camera focused in on him for a moment, then turned back towards Sam to reveal an empty space. It paused, then shifted up to show Sam had opened up his flying rig and taken off, and was now hovering above Clint's head.

"Sorry, man," he called down. "Changed my mind." He tossed the apple back down and flew off.

Clint caught the apple and sighed. "Damn it," he muttered. "Plan B."

The scene cut and when it came back, Vision was standing beside Clint.

"Okay, we're going to give this another go," said Clint. "Vision's a lot more reliable than Sam anyway."

"Thank you," said Vision. "I should note that I'm also a lot more immune to injury from an arrow."

Clint waved that away and handed him the apple. "Okay, set yourself up."

Vision took the apple and set it on his head, then stood against a tree as Clint lined up the shot. A frown crossed his face. “I think I see why Sam didn't go through with it,” he said. “It's rather intimidating to see you from this angle.”

“I'm not gonna hit you,” said Clint.

“No,” agreed Vision. “Nevertheless, I have seen you hit many others who would have last seen you as you look to me now.”

“And plenty who never saw me at all,” agreed Clint. “Put the apple on your head.”

Vision put the apple on his head, Clint pulled back the bowstring, and- and Vision phased out and took a step backwards through the tree as the apple fell to the ground.

“Aw, come on!” said Clint, lowering the bow. “It wouldn't even hurt if there was a glitch in the universal laws and I did hit you!”

“I apologise, Clint,” said Vision, from the other side of the tree. “I had underestimated how intimidating it would be to have a team-mate's weapon pointed at me.”

Clint let out a groan. “Just, please, at least tell me that wasn't meant to be a euphemism, dude.”

The video cut out and came back in to show Wanda, already in place against the tree with the apple on her head.

“Okay,” said Clint. “You've got it, yeah? Just stand still, nothing bad will happen, I shoot the arrow and we call it a day?”

“I've got it,” she said. “Go ahead.”

“Right,” said Clint. He lined up and pulled back, paused as if waiting for her to react and then, when she continued to calmly stand as she was, let the arrow fly.

About three feet in front of her, a burst of red fire shot out and engulfed it, reducing the arrow to ashes.

“Aw, arrow, no,” said Clint, mournfully. “I liked that one.” He looked up from the remains. “And you! You were meant to stay still.”

“I did,” she said, taking the apple off her head. “Surely you didn't think I wouldn't defend myself?” She threw the apple back to him. “That was fun, thanks. We should do it again some time.”

She walked off, leaving Clint to stare after her in disbelief, then back around at the camera.

In the next shot, Natasha was beside him, staring distrustfully at the camera. “Okay, time to bring out the big guns,” said Clint. “Agent Romanov and I have been partners and best buds for years, she trusts me through everything, there's no way she'll leave me hanging on this one.”

He gave her a wide smile, then held up the apple. “So, Natasha, you've just got to-”

Her eyes focused on it. “No,” she said.

He wilted. “Aw, come on, Tasha, it's just-”

“No,” she said again. “This isn't a bad action film, Clint. You're on your own.” She turned away and walked off without another word.

“Okay,” said Clint to the camera in the next shot. There was a slightly manic look around his eyes, as if he was on the edge of a breakdown. “It's fine, I've got someone. Bucky Barnes is going to show the world how the Howling Commandos were made of sterner stuff than modern folks.”

The camera panned over to Bucky, lounging back against the tree and tossing the apple up in the air. “Just get on with it, Barton,” he said. “I haven't got all day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Clint, standing back and getting in position. “Apple on head, then.”

Bucky straightened and balanced the apple on his head, holding dead still at attention as Clint pulled back the bow-string and let fly.

Quick as a flash, Bucky's metal arm darted up and caught the arrow when the point was mere centimetres from burying itself in the apple.

“Oh, come ON!” exploded Clint. “What the hell was that for?”

Bucky grinned. “Maybe I didn't want to destroy a perfectly good apple,” he said, reaching up for it and then taking a big bite. “Maybe I just like messing with you. Could go either way.”

Clint looked exhausted in the next shot. “Okay, so, we've got one last try at this thing before I run out of both light and team-mates who aren't assholes. So, I brought in the big guns, and I mean that both literally and figuratively, because Steve has some really big guns.”

Behind him, Steve's voice could be heard saying, “I don't use guns.”

Clint sighed and rubbed at his face. “He's also not great at slang, but he's not gonna need that for this, so we're all good.”

He stepped back and turned to face Steve. “You're just going to stand still, not do anything smart-assy, and let me shoot the damn apple, yeah?”

Steve's eyebrows rose. “Are you okay, Clint? You seem a bit-”

“I'm _fine_ ,” gritted out Clint. He held out an apple. “Just, please. Let me get this done so I don't need to call Tony or try and get Thor back from Asgard or just tie a random agent to the damn tree.”

Steve frowned. “Clint, do we need to have a talk about-”

“Nope,” said Clint. “Definitely not.”

Steve looked at him for a long time, then took the apple. “Okay. Let's do this.”

Clint's shoulders sagged with relief and he glanced at the camera. “See, the thing is, when Captain America says he'll do something, he'll do it,” he said. “We may finally get this.”

Steve got in position, apple balanced on his head. Clint braced, pulled back and fired.

The arrow hit the apple straight through the middle and buried itself into the tree hard enough that when Steve stepped away the apple was still hanging from it.

“Oh YES!” crowed Clint, punching the air. “That's what I'm talking about! Hawkeye's still the best!”

"That was impressive," said Steve. He reached off camera and retrieved his shield. "Now, you balance the apple on your head and let's see if I can get it with this," he said, hefting his shield.

Clint stared at him. "Oh, no way," he said. "No freaking way."

"Ah, come on," said a voice off-screen, and the camera panned around to show all the Avengers gathered, holding their favourite weapons. "Turn about it is only fair, surely?" said Sam.

"Nope," said Clint, and took off running.

****

When Erika called Clint the day after the video was posted, he thought she was having some kind of fit.

"This is the best thing that you could have done! You're my favourite right now, you're definitely let off that other event."

"Uh, that's good," said Clint. "It went down well, then?"

"You're kidding, right?" she said. "You're the biggest thing on the internet right now. It's beautiful."

_Beautiful_ wasn't quite how Clint would have described it, but at least someone was happy. The closer they got to going to New York to play with Bucky's brain, the more tense everyone on base got.

They'd decided that Bucky, Steve and Clint would all go, along with Sam and Rhodey to make it look more like a group trip if anyone got any photos. Bucky spent the day before they left restlessly pacing about the base, going to the range and firing a few shots, then heading up to the roof to stare out at the trees, before going back down to their rooms to play half a round of _Call of Duty_ before he was up again, wandering outside to glower at the sky.

Clint wasn't sure if he wanted company or not, so he set himself up with his fletching supplies in the lounge, where he was easily found, and kept a close read on Bucky's emotional state.

It was a mess. Fear and panic were all churned up with a grim resolution and a desperate kind of hope, as if he wasn't sure yet that he should be trusting that this would actually free him from the threat of Hydra.

"You've been trending on Twitter for thirty-six hours," commented Wanda. She was collapsed on another of the sofas in the lounge with her phone in her hand. "The latest hashtag about you is #Hawkeyecanshootmyapple. You appear to have gained a rather large number of excitable teenage girls as fans."

Clint considered that. "I'd ask if any of them were hot, but it's not like any of them are gonna be hotter than Bucky."

She looked up from her phone and raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"What?" asked Clint.

She just shook her head. "You soulmates," she muttered, looking back at her phone.

"Are you saying Bucky's not hot? I mean, I know he's not got as many metal body parts as you like, but he's not far off, surely?"

She sent him a glare that Clint just grinned at. "Right," she said. "That's it. I'm searching for you on Tumblr."

Clint groaned. "Oh god, don't, please, that site's full of crazies."

"Yup," she said, with great satisfaction.

Bucky slouched in and threw himself on the sofa next to Clint about fifteen minutes later.

"There's a whole Tumblr dedicated to Clint's biceps," said Wanda.

Clint put a hand on Bucky's thigh and gave it a squeeze as he considered that. "Okay, well, that seems legit. I mean, have you seen them?"

"These guys certainly have," said Wanda. "There are a lot of photos. A _lot_."

Bucky stirred. "Can I see?" 

And once again, Clint's biceps saved the day. And by 'saved the day', Clint meant 'brought a mopey super-soldier back to life', but same difference, right?

"I'll send you a link," said Wanda, with a grin.

****

Clint let Rhodey pilot them down to New York so that he'd be able to sit next to Bucky and distract him with- well, with whatever he could think of, frankly. At one point, he was tempted to just rip his shirt off and start flexing his biceps, but he wasn't sure Sam and Steve would be able to cope with the raw sexual magnetism that would expose them to.

Also, it was kinda cold on the quinjet. Probably best to keep his shirt on.

Pepper was there to greet them. "Tony's still fiddling," she said.

"He's working on the chair?" said Bucky.

She pressed her lips together and nodded. Bucky let a long breath out of his nose and looked away.

“Right,” he said quietly, then drew his shoulders up and gave a nod. “Let's do this, then.”

Clint felt a swell of love for him wash over him. Fuck, how had he been so lucky to get this guy as his soulmate? He reached out and squeezed Bucky's hand, wondering if there was any way to express just how proud he was that Bucky was facing his worst nightmare like this, just to avoid the risk of hurting anyone again. It didn't feel like words would ever do it justice.

They were halfway down to Tony's workshop before Clint realised that this was exactly the kind of thing that soulprints were for. He glanced over at Sam and Steve, who were hand-in-hand on the other side of the lift, their prints pressed together as they so often were.

He let go of Bucky's hand in order to put an arm around his waist, resting his finger over his print, above his shirt.

Bucky glanced at him and Clint quirked an eyebrow in question. He got a short nod and took it as permission to slide his hand up under Bucky's shirt, pressing his finger over his print and letting his love and pride flow into him.

Bucky let out a quiet sigh and his shoulders relaxed a notch. He gave Clint a tiny smile that lasted a half second before his face fell back into the blank mask he was using to cover his fear.

Well, at least Clint had sort of a little bit helped, right?

The lift doors opened and he took his hand away. Tony was on his back on a trolley with his head buried underneath a chair that looked less like a torture device than the one Hydra had had, but not by much. He'd tried to make it a bit less ominous by adding a purple cushion but it hadn't really worked, although Clint appreciated the effort.

Bucky stood in the lift and stared at it without moving.

“You can still change your mind,” said Steve.

Bucky shook his head and stepped forward, hands clenched into fists. “I want this done.”

Tony rolled out and gave them a grin. “Hey, kids, up for some highly inadvisable brain fuckery?”

“Tony,” said Steve, with a deep sigh.

Tony sat up. “What should we be calling it? Mind adjustment?”

“Brain fuckery is fine,” said Bucky. He circled the chair. “Are you still working?”

Tony shook his head. “It's done, I was just making sure the power connection was solid.” He stood up. “We're ready to go if you are.”

Bucky nodded, then glanced back at Sam and Pepper.

“We'll get out of your way,” said Pepper, stepping back into the lift.

Sam gave Steve's hand one last squeeze and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I'll bring lunch down in a few hours for you.”

Tony stood up and ran a hand through his hair as the elevator doors shut behind them. “Okay, so, here's how this is going to work. One cycle takes three hours of- well, of having your mind pulled apart, then we get a two minute window of inputting the new data-”

“Don't call it that,” interrupted Steve.

Tony glared at him. “Trust me, this is a lot easier for me to work on when I think of it in computer terms.” He looked back at Bucky. “Two minutes for Clint to give your mind the new trigger words and for me to do some fancy and disturbing shit in order to link them up with the right responses, then we go through the whole fucked up thing again.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

“I still don't get why we're giving him new triggers, rather than just taking them out entirely,” said Steve.

Tony let out a very long sigh. “It's really complicated, even when I _am_ allowed to use computer analogies,” he said. “Just- look. They made a space in his brain where the words go, okay? And now there needs to be something there, or the old ones won't get removed. And that's such a gross over-simplification that I'm crying inside.”

“Okay, fine,” said Steve. “No need to get snippy.”

Tony made a face and turned back to glare at the chair. Clint got the feeling that for all his enthusiasm to get rid of the Winter Soldier programming, he was having a hard time dealing with having built a brainwashing chair, and an even harder time dealing with the idea of actually using it.

“And we do four cycles,” said Bucky.

“Yeah,” said Tony. “Otherwise it won't take. You've got decades of engrained responses that need digging out.” He winced. “Man, sorry, that sounds-”

Bucky shook his head. “I really don't care what words we use.” He took a deep breath and glanced at Clint, who did his best to not look like he was three seconds away from grabbing him and taking away somewhere where he could wrap him up in a blanket and never let anyone anywhere near his brain ever again.

He couldn't do that. This was Bucky's choice, and he'd made it for good reasons. Clint needed to respect that. He gave him a weak smile.

“Okay,” said Bucky. “Enough time wasting. Let's do it.”

He stepped over to the chair, gave it a hard glare, then sat down in it.

“I just need to strap this-” said Tony, reaching for the gadgetry behind Bucky's head.

Bucky flinched backwards and a hand came up as if he was going to punch Tony, although he pulled himself short.

“Whoah, okay,” said Tony, taking a step backwards.

“Sorry,” gritted out Bucky. “Just. Bad associations.”

“Yeah,” agreed Tony. “How about Clint does it, yeah? I'm guessing you trust him way more than you do me.”

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded.

Oh man. If there was something Clint had never wanted to do, it was strap his soulmate into a chair that was designed to wipe away everything he loved about him while putting him through unimaginable pain. Clint did it though, because if Bucky could stand to be strapped into the chair, then Clint could stand to strap him in.

He kissed Bucky when he was done. “I love you, okay?” he murmured. He reached into the pocket and pulled out the keyring, and went to press it into Bucky's hand.

Bucky shook his head. “I'm not gonna remember it in a bit. You keep it safe for me, yeah?”

“Okay,” said Clint, and stepped back.

“You're really sure about this?” asked Steve.

Bucky glared at him. “I shoulda thought that would be pretty obvious by now,” he said, and looked at Tony. “Let's do this.”

“Okay,” said Tony. “Brace yourself, then.” He flicked a couple of switches on the control panel and the chair began to hum with power. He turned a dial and it started to vibrate, then Bucky tipped back his head and let out an anguished scream that Clint was never going to be able to forget.

Oh god. They were doing this. Really doing it. He clutched his hand around the keyring and glanced over at Steve, who was staring at Bucky, looking just as lost as Clint felt.

Clint took a deep breath. Right. Okay. Keep your head in the game, Hawkeye.

He looked over at Tony. “Anything we need to do?”

Tony shook his head. “It's all just the machine.”

Clint swallowed and looked back at Bucky, who was still screaming, eyes clenched shut.

****

Three hours was a long time to listen to Bucky scream. Clint settled into a crouch at his side, one hand resting on his knee in the hope that some part of him would be able to feel it and would know it meant that Clint was still with him.

When the machine finally started to power down, Clint glanced over at Tony and got a nod. He stood up, ignoring his creaking knees from staying in place so long.

Bucky stopped screaming as the machine went quiet and his eyes blinked open, but there was nothing behind them. Clint knew that if he tried to read him now, he'd get nothing but the diamond-hard shell that he'd felt when Hydra had taken him.

“Now, Clint,” said Tony, quietly.

Clint took a deep breath and recited the words he'd come up with as new trigger words, while Tony frantically tapped on the control panel, linking them up with all of Bucky's memories and sense of self.

The sense of self that they'd just brutally ripped away from him.

When they'd finished, Bucky blinked at him, looking confused. “Is there a mission?” he asked, in a deep growl.

Clint shook his head. “No missions. Never again.”

Bucky frowned and glanced over at Steve, before looking back at Clint. “I don't understand.”

“You will,” promised Clint. The machine was starting to power up again so he just reached down and gave Bucky's hand a squeeze. “You're gonna be fine. Just, just get through this as best you can, yeah?”

A moment later, Bucky was screaming again. Clint exchanged miserable looks with Steve and sat back down at Bucky's feet.

Sam brought food down but no one was really in the mood to eat it. Bucky's screams were beginning to sound ragged, as if his throat was finally giving up under the strain, super-soldier or not.

Tony was crouched over the control panel, glaring at it. “I should have been able to come up with a better way,” Clint heard him mutter.

Steve let out a sigh. “Quit torturing yourself, Tony. You just gave Bucky the option. He chose it himself. After everything, we can't take that from him.”

“I think I like it better when he's using his free will to pick pizza toppings,” said Clint. He had his hand around Bucky's ankle now but he didn't think Bucky had the faintest clue he was there. He'd made the stupid mistake of trying to read him, only to find there was nothing but a drowning ocean of pain.

“Even when he gets pineapple?” asked Steve.

Clint made a face. “Ugh. Yeah, even then.”

The machine's whine changed.

“Okay, heads up,” said Tony. “Here we go again.”

Clint stood up, rolling his shoulders back, as the machine slowed down.

Bucky's head was hanging down in exhaustion but he pulled it up to look blankly at Clint as he ran through the new trigger words again.

This time, he didn't speak. He just stared dully as Clint squeezed his hand. “Halfway there,” he said. “It's all downhill from here.”

There was nothing in Bucky's eyes to say he had the faintest idea what Clint was talking about.

“You're gonna be okay, Buck,” said Steve. “We're all here for you.”

Bucky glanced over at him and then the machine started to whir up again and his eyes flicked back to Clint's, filling with terror.

“I'm so sorry,” said Clint, miserably. “Bucky, you can do this.”

The chair kicked in fully and Bucky started screaming again. Clint wilted. Oh man, this was the actual, literal, complete worst. He rubbed his hands over his face and back over his hair. If Steve and Tony hadn't been there, he thought he might have started to cry.

Nope, no, come on, he was Hawkeye, he could get through this. Just, you know, he could get through this and then spend the next ten years having nightmares about it.

Eh, it wasn't as if he didn't already have nightmares.

“Man, I could really do with a drink,” said Tony.

“No operating machinery that's fucking with my soulmate's mind whilst under the influence of alcohol,” said Clint.

“Yeah, I know,” said Tony. “Just saying.”

“We'll get wasted when this is done,” said Clint, then glance back at Bucky and gauged how exhausted he was likely to be once it was finished. “Tomorrow night.”

“Sounds awesome,” said Tony.

“How's the- the science holding up?” asked Steve. “Is it doing everything it's meant to?”

Tony sent him a very dry look. “'The Science' is doing fine, Captain Luddite. It's working exactly like all Starktech does, which is perfectly as expected.”

Clint snorted. “Try pulling that line on someone who hasn't seen your suits in action. It's a miracle you've never been blown up.”

“Not a miracle,” corrected Tony. “Good engineering. Fucking awesome engineering.”

The third time the cycle ended, Bucky didn't just look blank, he looked half-dead. He barely even blinked as Clint took his hand and read out the words.

“Not long now,” said Clint. “Last time, then never again, yeah?”

Bucky blinked at him, then over at Steve. “I know you,” he said in a voice so deep it was almost a growl.

Clint felt his eyes widen. “Hell yeah, you do,” he said. “We're your friends. We've got your back.”

“To the end of the line, Bucky,” said Steve, quietly.

Bucky squinted at him. “I don't-” he said, then looked distressed. “I trust you,” he muttered. “Why do I trust you?”

“Because you know we'll never hurt you,” said Clint, just as the machine powered up and yeah, okay, maybe that was a stupid thing to say to someone who was having their mind shredded.

Bucky started screaming again before he could respond, but Clint leaned in and pressed a kiss to the back of his clenched fist. “I've got you,” he said. “Just this one last time.”

“It's working,” said Tony. “He recognised you. That means the triggers are settling into place. The next time you say them, he should come right back to himself, like he was never wiped.”

“And if he doesn't?” asked Steve.

Tony made a face. “We'll have to do it a fifth time. But we shouldn't need to, all my calculations say that four times will be enough. And I sent them to Bruce and got him to look them over as well, and he agreed.”

Clint sighed. “You'd better be right,” he said. “I don't think I can handle a fifth round of this, even if Bucky can.”


	4. Chapter 4

The last cycle felt like it lasted at least ten times as long as the others had.

When the chair started to power down, Clint crouched in front of Bucky and watched as the pain seeped away from his face. He could feel Steve at his shoulder, just as tense as Clint was.

Bucky didn't even bother lifting his head. He just slumped in the restraints, chest heaving and his hair falling over his face. Clint took a deep breath, sent up a prayer to a god he didn't believe in, and recited the trigger words.

The effect was almost immediate. Bucky looked up and met Clint's eyes, frowning slightly before his face cleared.

“Clint,” he said, and Clint felt a lungful of relief explode out of his chest. Bucky glanced behind him to Steve. “Stevie.”

“Hey, Bucky,” said Steve. “How you feeling?”

Bucky shook his head and didn't bother answering, which told Clint all he needed to know. “Did it work?” he asked instead.

“You tell me,” said Clint. “Have you got yourself all in place?”

Bucky considered for a moment, then nodded. “I think so.”

“ _Think so_ might not cut it,” said Tony, coming over from the controls. “You feel like you've got a mission? Any homicidal urges?”

“Nothing homicidal,” said Bucky. “No mission. Well, other than making sure Clint doesn't hurt himself doing anything suicidally insane.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “I can look after myself, you know.”

Steve snorted at that, which seemed a little unfair from the guy who had done the actually suicidally insane thing of flying his plane into an ice field. Clint hadn't done anything to top that. Not yet, anyway.

“How's the memory?” Steve asked Bucky.

“Seems to be in place,” said Bucky. “How am I meant to know if there are any holes, though?”

“We'll have to test it,” said Tony. “Who are the main characters of Princess Bride? Who won the last game you played with Clint? What happened on December 16th, 1991?”

Bucky glared at him. “Buttercup and Westley,” he said grimly. “I did, but he was distracted by coffee so it wasn't really a fair fight, and I killed your parents.”

Tony shook his head. “Nope. Hydra's Soldier killed my parents, and we just rooted him out and eradicated him.” He held up a palm. “High five for that, I think.”

Bucky glanced down at his restraints, then up at Tony with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” said Tony, dropping his hand. “Maybe later.”

“Is that it?” said Bucky. “The sum total of the memory test?”

Tony shrugged. “I don't have that many shared memories with you. Clint? Steve?”

Clint didn't see that asking Bucky random questions was going to prove anything, especially not when he had a much easier way to check if Bucky was back intact. He slid his finger to his print.

“How did I break my arm when we were kids?” asked Steve.

The sense of Bucky in the back of Clint's mind was exactly as it should be. There wasn't a single hint of the hard shell that the brain-washing procedure encased him in. Most of what Clint was getting was a bone-deep exhaustion that made Clint want to get Bucky tucked up in a bed as soon as possible, combined with a heady relief that made him realise just how much Bucky had been worrying about his conditioning being used against him again.

“Which time?” asked Bucky, then shook his head. “Not that it matters. Both times were cuz you were being a punk.”

“I wasn't-” started Steve, then wilted under Bucky's look. “Yeah, okay, fine.”

Bucky looked at Clint expectantly, but Clint just shook his head. “I don't need to test you,” he said. “I can feel you're you.” He took his finger off his print and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, then started to undo the restraints. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

Clint and Steve both still had designated rooms in the Tower from when it had been Avengers Central. Bucky claimed he didn't need any help getting to Clint's but Clint noticed he wasn't the only one hovering close enough to grab him if he needed it.

When they got to the room, Steve clasped a hand to Bucky's shoulder. “You need anything, just let me know, yeah?”

“I'm fine,” said Bucky. “Just need to sleep.”

Steve glanced at Clint and gave him a look. Clint gave him a half-nod back.

Bucky let out an irritated sigh that meant he'd caught the exchange. “I'm fine,” he said again. “Seriously, stop coddling me.”

“Yeah, that might take a day or two,” said Steve. “I'll leave you to sleep, though. Goodnight, Clint.”

“Night,” said Clint, already bending to start taking off Bucky's shoes.

Bucky let out a sigh as Steve left. “I can do that myself, you know.”

Clint shrugged. “Feels like it's my turn. You did mine in Chicago.”

“You were so drunk,” said Bucky, sounding fond. Clint glanced up to see a small smile on his face, which he returned.

“Drunk and cuddly,” he agreed. “And now you're tired and aching. Returning the favour's no bother.” He pulled Bucky's shoes off and stood up.

“I'm feeling kinda cuddly as well, if you're up for it,” said Bucky, pulling off his shirt.

“Are you kidding?” said Clint. “There's no way in hell I'm letting you get away without some pretty epic snuggles after today. I really hated seeing you like that.”

Bucky undid his jeans and Clint helped him pull them off, then pulled back the covers for him.

“Yeah,” said Bucky quietly, as he lay down. “I kinda hated being like that. Not that I remember a huge amount.”

“That can only be a good thing,” said Clint. “Gimme a minute.”

He got undressed as quickly as possible, then pulled out some painkillers and got a glass of water, which he set by the bed.

“I don't need those,” said Bucky. “I'm fine, seriously. Used to do this and then go out on a mission, remember?”

“Yeah, we're not using the way Hydra used to treat you as any kind of guideline,” said Clint, taking out his hearing aids. He climbed in next to Bucky and snuggling in close enough to wrap an arm around his waist. Bucky turned into him, resting his head on Clint's shoulder, and let out a long breath. Clint felt all the muscles resting against his body relax, and clung on to him tighter, as if he could wipe away the horror of today from Bucky's mind just by holding on to him hard enough.

***

He woke up to find Bucky was still curled up against him, his breaths gently fluttering against Clint's skin. That on its own was a pretty major sign of how tired Bucky had been, because it was almost always the other way around, unless Clint had had a nightmare. Clint just lay and watched Bucky for a while, then decided he was getting unnecessarily soppy and shifted over to reach for his aids, which woke Bucky up.

“Sorry,” said Clint, fitting his aids in. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

Bucky blinked his eyes and then frowned, shaking his head slightly. “It's fine,” he said, in a bit of a slur. “Was waking up anyway.”

_Bullshit_ , thought Clint, but didn't say it. He settled back down next to him instead. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” said Bucky, then made a face. “Course, if I had lost anything, I might not know.”

“I'd know,” said Clint. He took Bucky's hand, entwining their fingers. “You haven't lost anything, it worked.”

“Did it?” asked Bucky. “Let's be honest; we won't know if it's properly worked unless Hydra try to turn me.”

“We're not letting them get you again,” said Clint.

Bucky shook his head. “No promises you can't keep. Just-” He turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Will you say the trigger words again? Just to make sure they work.”

“No,” said Clint, automatically, without even thinking about. “Hell no.”

Bucky let out an irritated sound. “Come on, just so I know, so we can be sure that they took root properly, or whatever.”

Clint shook his head. “C'mon, you can't ask me for that. I don't ever want to use those words unless there's really no other choice. I hate the idea of controlling you.”

Bucky stared at him, then let out a laugh. “Are you kidding? That's the very last thing you've ever done. You've always gone out of your way to make sure I get to make my own decision on things, even when I wasn't really able to process the idea of self-determination. I really appreciate it.”

He leaned in and kissed Clint, and said, very quietly, “It's one of the things that first made me fall in love with you.”

Clint kissed him back, then shook his head. “I'm still not doing it.”

Bucky scowled and opened his mouth to argue, but Clint interrupted before he could.

“Would you do it if it was me?”

Bucky hesitated, then let out a long sigh. “Guess not.”

Clint gathered him in close and kissed him until he looked happier. “We're going to just hope and pray that no one ever has to say those words to you, okay?” he said. “I want to make having memorised them be completely pointless.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, okay. Here's hoping.”

****

It was a couple of hours before they made it out to breakfast, and they didn't see anyone until Tony turned up as they were finishing their coffee.

“You made it it up,” he greeted them, then gave Bucky a long, considering look. “How're you feeling?”

“Fine,” said Bucky, shortly.

Tony let out a short sigh. “Yeah, okay, great, but seriously, you know what I'm really asking, don't make me have to spell it out.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but obligingly elaborated. “It feels like it worked. My mind is – I don't know, settled or whatever.”

“Awesome,” said Tony, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes, and Clint remembered what he'd said at the reception about getting to eradicate the agent that had killed his parents. “We're all set, then. I've destroyed the chair – melted it down so no one will even get a clue to its workings. I've scrubbed the files so there's no record of what went on yesterday, Clint and Steve are the only ones who know the new words, nothing left to worry about.”

“You've already destroyed the chair? That was quick,” said Clint.

Tony shrugged a shoulder. “I couldn't really sleep knowing it was there, you know? It was bad enough building the thing, knowing what it can do.” He made a face. “I always said I'd never build another weapon.”

“It wasn't a weapon,” said Bucky.

Tony gave him a look. “It really was.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, Hydra's ones are weapons. Yours was- I don't know, like a medical tool. Like the difference between a knife and a surgical scalpel.”

Tony paused then smiled, and Clint watched as something that had been tense about him relaxed. “Yeah, okay, I like that. Let's just hope there are no post-surgical complications, yeah? I don't exactly have medical negligence insurance.”

“And you didn't get him to sign a waiver,” pointed out Clint. “Hey, Bucky, let's sue. We could get enough to fix up the farm with, like, a swimming pool and a helipad and all kinds of cool shit.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think Steve would disapprove of that.”

Clint sighed. “He ruins all my fun, with his _morals_ ,” he muttered.

“Where is he, anyway?” asked Bucky. “I kinda thought he'd be hovering out here, waiting for me.”

“He was,” said Tony. “Then Pepper told him to calm down and dragged him off to some art thing to distract him. Rhodey and Sam were already gone; Erika heard they were in New York and got them scheduled for some veterans thing.”

“So, I've got a couple of hours before the mother-henning sets in?” said Bucky. “Cool.”

“We should go out,” said Clint. “Get coffee or something.”

“We just had coffee,” Bucky pointed out.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Fine, okay, something touristy then. Go to Central Park and grab a hotdog.”

Bucky hesitated in a way that meant he was seriously tempted, then reluctantly shook his head. “Not a good idea. Low profile on the soulmate thing, remember?”

“You might be taking that a bit far,” said Tony. “I mean, who sees two buddies grabbing hotdogs and immediately assumes soulmates? Just don't link up and make sweet love in Bethesda Fountain and you're fine.”

“It'd probably look weirder if we're never seen together,” considered Clint. “Besides which, without Steve or Tony or someone around, no one ever recognises me any way. I bet if you hide your arm, no one would know you either. Especially if you try smiling for once.” 

That was pretty much all it took for Bucky to give in. “If we get yelled at by Erika, I'm directing her towards you two,” was all he said.

****

Strolling along the street to the park with Bucky by his side was nicer than Clint had expected, even with the weather starting to get chilly.

“This is probably the closest we've come to a date,” he realised out loud, which earned him a dark glare from Bucky.

“Don't talk like that in public,” he said. “Seriously, how were you ever any good at undercover?”

Clint shrugged, feeling all loose and relieved after the stressful nightmare of yesterday. “Dumb luck?”

“Sounds about right,” said Bucky as they headed through the gates of the park. He glanced around, taking it in.

“Has it changed much?” asked Clint.

Bucky shook his head, but it was with frustration, not denial. “Can't really remember. I guess I came here a few times with my mom and my sisters, but...” He let the sentence trail off, shaking his head again.

Clint was wondering how to reply when there was an excited dry of, “Oh my god! It's Hawkeye!”

Within minutes they were surrounded, and not by the kind of fans Clint had encountered in Chicago, the ones who mainly wanted to know about the other Avengers or to get his autograph for someone else, but the over-excited, wide-eyed kind that he usually saw Steve dealing with.

“Your videos are the best thing on the internet,” gushed one teenage girl, trying to get him to autograph her t-shirt. “You're so cool! Please tell me you're going to make more.”

“Uh, probably,” he said, distracted by trying to get her pen to work on white cotton. He'd opted for signing her shoulder rather than anywhere more obvious that might get him into trouble.

There was a little chorus of shrieks that made him wish he could dial down his hearing aids without it being obvious.

“Oh yes, yes!” said another girl, doing an excited jump. “I love them so much! Please tell me you'll get the others in them again, that was totally the best one.”

Apparently, his ability to walk around unrecognised had been completely destroyed by making a couple of videos and posted them online. Who would have guessed that?

He glanced over at Bucky to see him hanging back, out of the way, hiding under his hoodie and giving Clint an amused smirk. As yet, no one had recognised him. In fact, Clint wasn't even sure anyone had bothered sparing him a glance.

“That kinda depends on them,” he said. “What about it, Barnes? You up for being in another video?”

There was a little pause and then the growing gaggle recognised Bucky.

“The Winter Soldier,” breathed someone in an awed voice.

Bucky sent Clint a look that said he was going to get him back for this later. “Depends,” he said. “I've got to be honest, it feels like you're gonna run out of trick shots pretty soon. Not exactly much you can do with a Palaeolithic weapon, right?”

Clint snorted. “You've got no idea, man.”

Bucky was soon trapped in his own circle of autograph-hunters, to what seemed to be his surprise. Clint had a feeling he'd thought the public would all be scared of him, but Clint could have told him that wasn't how it worked. He was one of the Avengers, after all, and he'd looked damned hot in the photos the magazine had done for his interview.

Still, Clint kept half an eye on what was going on with Bucky as he scrawled his autograph on whatever scraps of paper the crowd could find and posed for what felt like a hundred selfies, until his grin began to feel like rictus. He had to stifle a snigger when he caught a glimpse of Bucky's face after one guy asked to see his arm.

“I saw that shit where you just grabbed the arrow out of the air, man, that was unreal.”

Bucky stared at him, then pulled up his sleeve, garnering a few impressed gasps.

“It's so _shiny_ ,” Clint heard someone behind him whisper to a friend and, wow, he needed to make sure Bucky knew about that later.

“Only the best in bling for our second favourite super-soldier,” he agreed, loud enough for Bucky to hear him. The press of people was beginning to die down, so he took a glance around. “Speaking of, we were actually heading to get a quick hot dog before we met up with Steve and the others. I'm pretty sure it's been actual decades since Barnes had a New York hot dog, do you mind if we-”

“Oh, oh, is Captain America going to be here?!” asked someone breathlessly, glancing around as if expecting Steve to come jumping down from a helicopter in full regalia. That was not what Clint had been hoping they'd get out of that.

“We're not meeting him here,” said Clint, easily, “we took a detour.” He gave it another try, channelling everything he'd seen of Tony's ability to easily escape a crowd. “We don't really want to keep him waiting though, so-”

A woman held a small boy up to stare excitedly at Clint's face, then waved a phone at him. “Can I-? He's such a huge fan!”

Clint gave in and took the boy from her. “Can you fire a bow?” he asked him, and the boy stared at him with dazed wonder, then made a vague motion with his arms that might have been a bow being drawn back.

“That's right,” said Clint, encouragingly. “Good going, you'll be an expert archer in no-”

The boy gave a strange choking noise, then his face went red, and that was all the notice Clint had before he threw up, right over Clint's sweater.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” said the mother grabbing the child out of Clint's arms. “I knew that much cotton candy would be too much for him!” 

“Yeah, it seems so,” said Clint, looking down at himself and trying to ignore the hysterical laughter coming from Bucky. “No harm done, I'll just-” He stripped off his sweater, taking care to keep the sick folded up in it.

Underneath he was just wearing a sleeveless tee, but he'd spent entire missions wearing just as little in far colder weather than New York in the Fall, so he wasn't that bothered. At least, he wasn't until he heard a heartfelt sigh behind him, followed by, “Oh god, his biceps, Jenna, I can't deal with this, oh my god.”

He glanced over at Bucky to see he had gone red with laughter. He managed a half-hearted glare at him before he had to turn his attention back to the mother, who was still apologising and trying to take the sweater out of his hands.

“Let me wash it and send it back to you, I can't believe-”

“It's fine,” he said again, pulling it back. “Seriously, I've got tons of sweaters and besides, we're staying with Stark, I can just steal one of his if need be.”

He bundled the sweater up and lobbed into the nearest bin, making a direct hit despite the distance and unwieldiness of the projectile.

“Hawkeye,” said Bucky in a very different tone of voice and Clint turned to see every trace of amusement wiped off his face. “Time to meet up with Steve,” he said, even as his eyes darted sideways, then back to Clint's face.

Clint blinked and followed his gaze without turning his head, and saw a man in dark clothes and a hat, leaning against a tree and watching them.

It was the same guy as Chicago. Clint cut his eyes back to Bucky and gave a tiny nod. “Yeah, can't really leave Cap waiting,” he said. “Sorry, guys, we have to head off.”

He ignored the disappointment as he and Bucky pulled themselves away from the crowd, striding off at a slight angle to the guy as if they hadn't noticed him.

“That's him, right?” asked Bucky quietly, once they were out of range of the fans.

“Yup,” said Clint. “Or at least, it looks like him. Let's see if he's interested in tailing me.”

“He already is,” said Bucky. “Still watching you as well. You're gonna have to give me a damn good reason not to just go after him and punch his face in. I ain't having random guys following my soulmate around like this.”

“And that's the reason,” said Clint. “How about we skip the over-protective boyfriend thing and deal with this like professionals?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, disguising the flick as he turned his hearing aids on to comms mode. “Hawkeye to Avengers, anyone read me?”

There was a long pause, then Vision's voice came over the comms.

"Receiving you, Hawkeye."

"Bucky and I are in Central Park and the guy from Chicago is on our tail," said Clint. "Can you contact the others and get them to-"

"Too late," interrupted Bucky.

Clint glanced around to see the guy had turned on his heel and was heading for the nearest road at a jog.

"Shit," he said, just as Bucky took off, sprinting across the park. "Shit shit shit," added Clint, then followed him.

The guy saw Bucky heading for him and sped up, reaching the road and diving into a waiting car before Bucky even got close to catching him. The car took off and for a moment Clint was worried Bucky was going to go into full-on Winter Soldier-mode and run after it, but he paused at the kerbside long enough for Clint to catch up with him.

"Fucking asshole," Bucky swore, glaring after the car. “He took off the moment you touched your aid. He must know they double as comms. He's gathering intel on you.”

"We'll get him," said Clint. "Come on, let's get back to the Tower. Tony might be able to track the car."

"I just wanted a fucking hot dog," muttered Bucky as they turned back towards the Tower, striding past the gawping pedestrians.

"Is everything okay, Hawkeye?" asked Vision over the comms.

"Fine," said Clint to him. "We lost the guy, so heading back to the Tower. Let you know if there are any updates."

"Understood," said Vision. “I'll update the others.” Clint disconnected from the comms.

Back at the Tower, they roused Tony from his workshop and he tried to track the car the guy had jumped into, without success.

"Looks like the driver knows all the traffic cameras and how to avoid them," said Tony. "I can trace them as far as Hoboken, that's it."

"Fucking fantastic," said Bucky. "I thought you were meant to be all up with the techno-wizardry, or whatever."

Tony gave him a glare. "Keep your pants on, Grumpy, I'm doing what I can. I did get this, look."

He brought a video up on the screen of a grainy, greyscale street that it took Clint a moment to recognise as the area outside the Stark Tower entrance. Blurry people passed by on the sidewalk while cars passed in sudden timeshift jumps.

"Look," said Tony. "That guy." He pointed at a man sitting at a table in front of the coffee shop opposite, who was little more than a pixillated blur.

"That's the guy?" said Bucky.

"Yup," said Tony. "He sat there for two hours, then got up and followed you guys to the park when you came out."

"He was waiting for me," said Clint. Okay, that was a bit creepy. "Seriously, who is this guy? Does he not realise how boring I am?"

"You're not boring," said Bucky, putting an arm around Clint's waist and giving him a squeeze.

Clint shook his head. "No, I mean- I'm not, like, Captain America or Iron Man or any of you guys who have actual nemesises-"

"The plural is nemeses," said Tony, helpfully.

"See?!" said Clint. "My point exactly! You need to know that cuz you have hundreds, but I don't even have one."

"Okay, _hundreds_ is over-selling it a bit," said Tony, "but I guess I see your point. I tend to attract the crazies."

"I can't even think of one person who'd target me specifically," said Clint.

"I can," said Bucky, tensely. "If Hydra know you're my soulmate-"

"There's no way they could know that," said Clint. "Come on, we've been super careful."

"And besides," added Tony, "Hydra don't send one guy to stalk someone. They rush in with all their little black-suited minions and make a mess."

Bucky made a face, but nodded. "Okay, fine. Not Hydra."

Tony clicked a few buttons. "This is the best image I could get of him."

It was from another security camera, further up the street. The image was slightly sharper, but not by much, and the man had kept his head angled down, so all you could really see was his hat.

"What's the logo?" asked Clint, leaning in.

"Friday, enlarge it and clean it up," said Tony.

The computer did so, until they were looking at a blue and white logo encircled by red.

"Is that a sports team logo?" asked Bucky.

"Friday, can you scan for matches?" asked Tony.

"Scanning," said Friday, and then, "Closest match is Bayern Munich Football Club."

"Germany?" said Clint. "Oh, come on, who do I even know in Germany?"

"Might just be someone who's into soccer," said Tony.

"Or someone who needed a hat," added Bucky. "I used to wear all kinds of team branding when I needed a disguise."

Clint made a face. "Yeah, okay, but if you were just grabbing a hat in New York, or Chicago even, it probably wouldn't be of a German soccer team."

The elevator dinged and Steve came out, already frowning. "Do we have anything on this guy?"

"He may, or may not, be into German soccer," said Clint. "And/or hats."

"There's nothing," said Bucky, with disgust. "Just some guy stalking my soulmate and nothing on why. How the hell did he even know we were in New York?"

"It's pretty easy to keep track of the Avengers movements," said Tony. "There are a couple of websites dedicated to it. Comes of travelling in super-exclusive and very recognisable quinjets everywhere."

"You don't go anywhere alone until this is sorted," said Steve to Clint. "Either you're on base, or you're with one of us."

Clint sighed. "Yay. Guess that means Tasha's definitely coming to this deaf kids thing with me."

“So am I,” said Bucky.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Nope. No need, and you'll hate it. You don't have enough sign yet to understand it, the place will be full of kids and, worse, parents, and you'll have to interact with all of them without homicidal glaring, mentioning assault rifles, or giving any indication you want to wrap me up in a blanket and hide me under the bed.”

“I don't want to wrap you-” started Bucky, but was cut off by Tony's laughter.

“Are you kidding, man? You totally do,” he said. “Come on, even I can tell you're shielding him from the sightlines through the window right now, and we're 98 floors up.”

Bucky glared at him, twitched as if he was thinking about moving away from pressing the curve of his body against Clint's, then resolutely stayed where he was.

“Plus, we don't have any good reason why you would go along,” added Steve. “Keeping your soulmate under wraps doesn't stop being important just because there's another threat.”

“If anything, it makes it more important,” said Clint. “If I am being targeted, for whatever stupid reason, it's doubly important they don't find out my weak spot.”

Bucky's scowl deepened. “It's not a _weak spot_ ,” he growled. “I hate that everyone talks about it like that.”

Clint's phone rang before he could respond to that, making everyone flinch and turn to stare at him.

He rolled his eyes as he pulled it out. “I hardly think this guy is going to try and get at me down the phone, guys, chill.” He glanced at the screen and every muscle in his body tensed. “Oh god,” he croaked. “This can't be good.”

He answered it warily. “Uh. Hi?”

“Clinton Francis Barton,” came Erika's strident tones, and he winced. Oh man, he was definitely in trouble. “What the hell were you doing in Central Park?”

“Getting a hot dog?” he said. “Come on, what can be bad about that?” He cast his mind back to before the stalker had shown up and desperately tried to work out what might have prompted the rage in her voice. “We signed a few autographs, I didn't swear in front of any small kids, not even when one of them threw up on me-”

“Wait, what?” said Tony. “Oh, why the hell is this the first I've heard of that? Friday, please tell me there's footage online somewhere.”

Clint glared at him and tried to ignore Bucky's quiet snigger. “I even managed to get Bucky to interact with them without looking like a stone-cold killer. He laughed! That's got to count for something, right?”

“Are you a fucking moron?” she spat at him. “How do you not see the problem with what happened?”

“Oh,” said Tony quietly, looking down at the tablet Friday was sending whatever she'd found online to. “Ah, okay so, the vomit thing is hilarious, but-”

“You took your damn shirt off!” yelled Erika, down the phone.

“And?” said Clint. “Come on, who doesn't want to see these guns?”

“You're an absolute fucking moron!” she raged, just as Tony held the tablet up so that Clint could see the image.

It was a photo of him from earlier, with a vivid red circle scrawled around the soulprint on his arm, with the blaring headline _Hawkeye Reveals Proof He's Activated!!!_

“Ah crap,” said Clint.

“Damn straight 'ah crap,'” said Erika. “What the hell is the point of me carefully choreographing a media strategy if you're going to just take your sweater off at the first opportunity?!”

“I didn't even think,” he said. “I mean, come on. I wear sleeveless tops all the time. My _uniform_ is sleeveless.”

“You also wear those archery cuff things-”

“Bracers,” he corrected.

“Bracers, cuffs, whatever. The point is, every single muckraker is going through all the photos they can find of you without them on and trying to pinpoint exactly when you went from light to dark, and who you'd just met at that time.”

Clint groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “This is such fucking bullshit,” he muttered.

Bucky gave his waist another squeeze. “That's what I've been saying the whole time.”

“Here's what's going to happen,” said Erika. “We're going to release a statement that everyone will ignore, asking people to respect your personal privacy in this matter, and then we're going to go quiet. No one says a damn word to anyone about soulmates, prints, romance – none of it. Speculation is going to run rampant, but that's all it will be. And you and Barnes are absolutely, completely, forbidden from going anywhere in public together unless there are at least three other people with you. Seriously, Clint, you're going to be under a microscope for a bit, every single interaction will be analysed. You can't be seen with him.”

Clint rubbed at his forehead. “Yeah, I know.” 

There was a huge part of him that wanted nothing more than to get out on Tony's fucking enormous roof and yell out that Bucky Barnes was his soulmate and he was the luckiest guy alive, but he knew that was a terrible idea. Even without some mysterious guy tailing him around, he needed to keep his vulnerability hidden.

“Okay,” she said. “Good.” She let out a long sigh. “I get that it's shit, Clint, but-”

“No, I get it,” he said. “I swear, I didn't even think. I'll take more care from now on.”

He hung up and gave Bucky a half-smile that felt false on his face. “Whoops?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Moron.” It sounded a lot more like an endearment from him than from Erika.

“Hey, you didn't think of it either,” said Clint.

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. “I was trying not to pee myself with laughter. You got _puked_ on.”

“The man has a point,” said Tony. “Having seen a video of it,” Clint groaned. Of course there was a fucking video of it, “I can say that no one would be thinking clearly with that hilarity going on in front of them.”

Sam and Rhodey got back about five minutes later. Steve gave Sam a wide smile the moment the elevator doors opened and Sam walked over to him, their hands automatically reached for each other until they could link their prints together. Those two were kinda sickening sometimes.

Clint wondered what it would be like to have a soulmate that you linked with as often as Sam and Steve linked, and decided he preferred the way he and Bucky had it. They both knew how the other felt, after all. It was better just to keep the full flow of it for very special occasions, so it always felt like a gift, rather than becoming something commonplace.

“We heard about the man in the park,” said Rhodey. “We got anything?”

Clint just shook his head.

“We also saw the video of the kid throwing up on you,” added Sam, with a grin.

Clint let out a sigh and rubbed at his forehead. “God damn it.”

“I know we were going to stay a few more days,” said Steve, “but I think we should get back to the base and see if we can get some proper intel. I want to ask Fury if his guys have heard any chatter about Clint lately.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, that's a good idea. Get as many guards around Clint as possible.”

“I don't need _guards_ ,” snapped Clint. “Come on, I may not have super-whatever, but I have been taking care of myself for a long time.”

“I know,” said Bucky. “Just, I'd prefer it if you had back-up. Lots of back-up.”

Clint shrugged. “I've got the legendarily badass Winter Soldier on my side. Who the fuck would mess with that?”

"Oh!” exclaimed Tony, jolting as if he'd been electrocuted. “Oh, I almost forgot! I got presents for everyone." He darted out of the room and then came back with a stack of t-shirts, which he threw to each of them.

Clint unfolded his and laughed as Bucky groaned. It featured a large cartoon of a raccoon's face glaring angrily out, with the words _Team Winter Raccoon_ printed above it.

"This is awesome, thanks Tony."

"Got one for all of you," said Tony. "You can take them back for the others."

"And burn them," growled Bucky. He glared at Clint. "If you ever wear that, I'll-" He hesitated.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Go on, come up with a threat against me that I'd believe."

Bucky paused, then a wicked grin spread across his face. "I'll take the _Dog Cops_ show maker guy up on his offer for a set tour, and not take you along."

Clint gasped and clutched at his chest. "You wouldn't."

"He would," said Steve, inspecting his own t-shirt. "He's kind of an asshole."

"Language," said Tony, reprovingly. "C'mon, Cap, set an example."

Clint glanced down at his t-shirt again. "You know, it might be worth it."

"I'll also make sure to get as many spoilers as possibly, and pass them all on," added Bucky, and Clint wilted.

"Okay, fine. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna keep it, though."

"I'm gonna wear mine," said Steve. He grinned over at Bucky. "Reminds me of the bandanas we all got for Falsworth after the flag thing."

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, then half-shook his head. "Don't remember that," he muttered.

Something in Steve's eyes died, but he just nodded. “I'll tell you about it on the quinjet.”

****

Celeb Watch

Anyone who's been paying attention this week knows that there's only one thing a gossip columnist worth her salt is going to be talking about, and that's the identity of Clint Barton's mysterious soulmate.

The revelation that the Avenger, who recently won over a huge new contingent of fans with his hilarious videos, has an activated soulprint has launched endless speculation as to who he might have linked with. The only comment from official sources has been a statement asking the media to respect his private life, but anyone who's been following the #Hawkeye hashtag on Twitter will know it's a bit late for that.

We've tracked down every photos we can find that shows Clint's forearm, where his print is located, in the hope of working out exactly when he activated, but it's not good news. The last photo we could find of him pre-activation was September last year. Since then, he's either been in uniform, wearing long sleeves, or conspicuously absent from the public eye.

He took a months-long break from superheroing earlier this year, during which time he wasn't seen in public at all. The official reason was that he was taking a break to recover from injuries that included a broken arm but given this latest revelation, people are starting to wonder if he perhaps he wasn't shacked up in a lovenest with a new soulmate.

But, of course, the biggest thing people are wondering is just who that soulmate might be. The last year has seen big changes in the Avenger's line-up and a lot of people are guessing that one of the new members might be the lucky one who is linked with Clint.

Putting Vision to one side, for obvious reasons, we're left with Falcon, Scarlet Witch or the Winter Soldier. Scarlet Witch is where the safe money is - not only are male-female soulmates statistically more likely, but there's been plenty of evidence that she and Clint had a close bond. In an interview in January, she had the following to say:

_Clint's always making sure I feel included in things. He was the one who organised the Christmas meal we all had together, and he made sure we included some traditional Sokovian elements. It was really sweet of him._

Sounds pretty coupley, right? But then, check out the photos of Falcon rescuing Clint from the top of a building that was collapsing and the look they give each other when they land. There's definitely some sort of love there, but is it only comradely?

From this commentator's point of view, Bucky Barnes is the outsider in this race. There's no historical information about where his print might be, or even if he has one, but if he did have a soulmate, it seems likely they were born at least fifty years before Clint was.

Of course, if you put the timing aside, then there's only really one Avenger you'd assume Hawkeye was linked with, and that's Black Widow. They've been close for years, long before the Avengers were even formed. Natasha is usually reserved, but there have been occasions when she's been snapped looking very close to Clint and they've both been quoted as saying the other is their best friend. Falling in love with your best friend may be a cliché, but it's a cliché for a reason.

But wait, I hear you say, if they've known each other for years, why would they have only activated now?

We've all heard stories about people who've known each other for years, but don't realise they haven't touched until they suddenly activate one day. Given Natasha's apparent reserve and that the uniforms they would have worn when they worked for SHIELD came with gloves, it's entirely possible for them not to have touched until this year.

And wouldn't that make the most romantic story? Partners and best friends who've spent years fighting alongside each other, saving each other's lives, suddenly finding out that they're soulmates? I know I'd watch that rom-com.

****

 

Natasha and Bruce were in the kitchen when they got back to the base, drinking some kind of weird-looking tea. Clint gave it a disgusted look and headed straight for the coffee machine.

"How did it go?" asked Natasha.

Bucky pulled a couple of mugs and set them beside Clint on the counter. "Okay," he said, which is not how Clint would have described twelve hours of screaming torment. "Seems like my brain is mostly unfucked now."

"Mostly," repeated Bruce. "Well, I suppose that's about all the rest of us can say."

Bucky shrugged. "If I weren't at least a little bit fucked up, I wouldn't have Clint as a soulmate."

"Hey!" protested Clint, turning around. "I'll have you know plenty of completely sane people would be over-joyed to be my soulmate."

Bucky didn't look convinced. "Not once they heard your snoring."

Clint spluttered with indignation as a smirk curled the corners of Bucky's mouth up. "Some fucking loyalty."

"Have you seen the media?" asked Natasha and Clint sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"Yep," he said, turning back to pour the coffee. "And I've already had Erika on at me, no need for you to yell too."

She tipped her head to one side and regarded him for a long moment. "No," she said eventually. "I think there's always a need for me to yell at you."

Clint scowled at her and handed Bucky his coffee. "I just forgot about it."

"You forgot about it," she said, flatly. "I'm ashamed to have been part of the same spy organisation as you, Barton."

“Come on, it was an honest mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Mistakes get people killed,” she said. “We both know that.”

Clint deflated. “Jesus, Tasha, don't hold back,” he grumbled.

“I enjoyed the video of the kid throwing up on you,” put in Bruce, as if he was helping.

Clint sighed. “Aw, man. Why do I never get to have any dignity?”

Bucky put his arm around Clint's shoulders. “I'm sure you'll get some dignity at some point. Maybe in your later years.”

“Asshole,” grumbled Clint, leaning into his embrace.

Steve came in and headed to the fridge for a glass of milk, because he was a freak who didn't truly appreciate the joy of coffee. "Hi, Bruce, Natasha," he said. "Anything to report?"

"Not really," said Natasha. "I've asked Hill to assign someone to look into Clint's stalker, but they haven't found anything yet."

Steve nodded. "I've asked Erika to send over the fanmail he's got over the last few weeks, in case it's a more traditional kind of stalker."

"It's hard to imagine anyone picking Clint over everyone else on the team to stalk," said Bruce.

"Hey!" protested Clint. "I'll have you know I'm extremely stalkable." He frowned. "Wait, that doesn't sound right."

"Are you having dinner with us?" Steve asked Bruce. "It's going to be the whole team tonight."

Bruce hesitated, then shook his head. He glanced up at the clock. "I should get back to work," he said, standing up. He shared a look with Natasha, then hurried out.

Clint let out a sigh and looked at Natasha. "Be honest, Tasha. Does your soulmate hate us?"

She sent him a long stare, then stood up and followed Bruce out without replying.

Clint glanced at Bucky, who just gave him a shrug.

"I'm sure it's just that he's very busy with his work," said Steve, but he didn't sound as if he believed it either.

****

_Your hearing aids are the same colour as mine_ , signed the girl.

Clint gave her a thumbs up. _Purple's the best,_ he signed, and got an enthusiastic nod in response.

"I like black," said Natasha, signing her words at the same time, and got a puzzled frown from the kid. Well, it would be an odd seven-year-old girl that liked black as much as she liked purple.

The play had been... Well. It had been, and Clint was just going to leave it at that. The free cake that Mrs Harrington had promised was excellent though, and he was trying to work out how many slices would be taking the piss. He'd had three already, but surely four would just be showing appreciation, right?

Natasha had been hovering at his side the whole time, rarely more than a metre away and on high alert for anyone suspicious, and it was beginning to make Clint's palms itch. Before they'd left the base, Bucky had given him the traditional fistbump and told him to take care, then fixed Natasha with a glare.

"You better make sure he comes back in one piece."

"Of course," she said.

"I don't need a keeper," Clint grumbled, and was ignored by both of them.

"I've been watching his back a lot longer than you have," she pointed out.

Bucky nodded and glanced back at Clint. "I'll be reading you every ten minutes," he said, as if it was a threat.

"Sounds like a boring day for you," said Clint. "I'm willing to bet I won't be going through a range of exciting emotions."

"I'm pretty much hoping for _bored_ all day," agreed Bucky.

Bucky had got his wish. Clint was willing to bet that his emotions had been at least 75% bored since they'd got here, and even the cake hadn't helped much. Well, okay, it helped more than a lot of things would have. It was really fucking good cake.

_I could tell the minute they gave you cake_ , Bucky texted him. _It must be good._

_So good_ , sent Clint. _I'd sneak you some back, but I'd only end up eating it on the plane._

"Mr. Barton," said Mrs Harrington, sweeping in to take his hand. "Thank you for coming. I'm so glad you could make it; I know the children are just thrilled you're here."

Clint hastily tucked his phone away and tried to look like he was engaged. "No problem."

"This is my niece, Maggie," said Mrs Harrington, putting her arm around the shoulders of the girl next to her.

Maggie shrugged her off immediately, shooting her aunt a sulky glare that made it very clear she'd already tipped over into being a teenager. "Hi," she said, signing a greeting at the same time.

_Pleasure to meet you,_ Clint signed back. _You were great on stage._

She hadn't been, she'd been exactly as bad as her aunt had said she would be. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder in a self-satisfied manner.

_Thanks. Some of the younger kids messed it up. They just don't take it seriously._

Or perhaps she was taking it too seriously. Probably best not to say anything.

"Do you want to come and meet Miss Doyle, the director?" she asked, glancing up at her aunt as she spoke, making it clear she was using her voice for her benefit.

Clint couldn't imagine anything he wanted less, but he nodded and found a smile, wondering just how much longer they had to hang out here before they could escape.

"Definitely," he said. He turned to Natasha, but made sure he was still angled so that Maggie could read his lips. "Coming, Tasha?"

She'd been trapped talking to some guy who Clint had a feeling was on the board or whatever, and she gave a very definite nod that meant she was desperate to escape.

"She's backstage,” said Maggie. "This way."

She led them down a corridor and behind the stage, into a cramped corridor with scenery and props stacked on either side. It was deserted.

"Are you sure she's down here?" asked Natasha, but Maggie wasn't looking and missed it.

Clint just shrugged at Natasha and followed. At least there were no parents down here wanting to be told just how precious their darlings were.

About halfway down, there was a movement from behind a curtain and he turned just in time to see three figures in black rush out and attack Natasha.

He glanced back at Maggie to see her frozen in shock. "Run!" he called, just as a heavy panel painted with trees fell forward with a bang, blocking him from the fight.

Running footsteps behind him told him that Maggie had fled. Good. Now he just had to work out how to get to Tasha, who was holding her own but could probably use back up. He glanced up and saw pipes running along the ceiling. Perfect.

He braced himself to leap up and grab them so that he could use them to fling himself over the scenery and into the fight.

Too late, he heard a movement behind him. Arms grabbed him around the shoulders and there was the sting of needle in his neck. He turned, too slowly, and hit out at the shadow behind him, but his limbs had gone weak and his vision was blurring, and then there was nothing but darkness.

****

His first thought when he woke up was _Oh man, Bucky's gonna be so pissed._ It took him a while to pull himself out of the drugs enough to really think beyond that.

There were ropes around his wrists and ankles and the world was silent in the muted way that meant his aids weren't in any more, so he fought against the headache and cracked his eyes open, squinting against the light. He was in a windowless concrete room, tied to a chair. In front of him was a dark shape that a couple of blinks resolved into a table that a man was leaning over. He had his back to Clint, but there was something familiar about the slope of his shoulders.

_Dad?_ he thought, blearily, before he was able to pull enough brain power together to recognise the hat the man was wearing. It was his stalker.

Well, of course it was. Fuck, Bucky was going to be _so_ pissed.

There was nothing much else in the room, other than a bow and a quiver propped in the corner, which Clint frowned at. He hadn't had his with him when he'd been taken, had he?

He cast his mind back and tensed. Oh crap, Natasha. What had happened to her?

The sensible thing to do right now would be to pretend to be unconscious for as long as possible, to stall until the inevitable rescue. Clint didn't really go for the sensible option very often though, and if Natasha was being held somewhere, she might be hurt and he should probably get to her. 

Besides, pretending to be unconscious was really boring.

“Hey, so, if you've got plans for me, you'll probably want to start by giving me my hearing aids back so I can hear them,” he said.

The man straightened and turned towards Clint, and all thoughts of Natasha were wiped from his mind.

“Barney?!” he asked, incredulously.

“Hi, Clint,” said Barney, signing along with his words. “Long time no see, huh?”

“What the fuck?” asked Clint. He hadn't seen his brother for years, and hadn't heard from him in nearly as long. At about the time Clint had been recruited into SHIELD, Barney had gone off to Europe where, as far as Clint knew, he'd been involved in various small-time criminal activities.

“You're the one who's been following me around? You couldn't have just called?”

“You think I went to all the bother of kidnapping you for a family reunion?” asked Barney.

Clint shrugged. “It wouldn't be the weirdest thing our family has got up to. Hey, you gonna untie me anytime soon?”

“No,” said Barney. “Or at least, not until you've given me the answers I need.”

“Answers?” repeated Clint, trying the ropes to see if he'd be able to free himself. No such luck. “What the hell answers could you need from me? Come on, Barney, this isn't funny. Let me go already.”

“It's not meant to be funny, Clint,” said Barney. “I'm not one of those idiots you usually fight, with a stupid nickname and even stupider costume. I've got a job to do. The best thing you can do is cooperate.”

Clint had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. “Seriously?” he asked. “Your own brother?”

Barney shrugged. “What's a brother, really? Some guy you knew when you were a kid. We haven't spoken in years.”

“Because you went off the radar!” said Clint, sour sickness spreading through him. He'd known he couldn't trust family since the first time his dad had hit him, back before he could do more than wail at the unfairness of it all, but he'd thought Barney was better than that. He'd thought there was some kind of fraternal loyalty, even if they didn't communicate. They'd had a common enemy for years and had protected each other where they could, even after Dad had died and they'd been in the home, and then the circus.

Barney shrugged. “You started playing for the wrong team,” he said. “Shoulda come to Europe with me. We'd have made a fortune.”

Clint stared at him. “Dude, no. Come on, you can't seriously be telling me I picked the wrong side when you're the petty criminal? I'm on a team with Captain America!”

“I'm not so petty as a criminal any more,” said Barney. “You'd be sick if you knew how much money I'm getting for this gig.”

“You're trying to impress me with wealth?” asked Clint, incredulously. “I'm friends with Tony fucking Stark!” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Okay, look. Barney, I get it, okay. We went our separate ways back then, and who'd have ever thought I'd end up where I am? But you don't have to do this, you can change. Come back with me to the base, you can-”

Barney started laughing. “I can what? Become one of you? No, thank you. I'm gonna do this one job and then I've got enough to retire. Maybe I won't be Tony Stark, but I'm going to be pretty damn comfortable.”

He reached behind him and picked up a knife, tucking it into his waistband so he could carry on signing as he advanced on Clint. “But first, you're going to give me one piece of information.”

Clint fixed his eyes on the knife, pushing aside the mess of his tangled emotions as much as he could. If he wasn't going to be able to talk Barney around, he needed to focus on just getting out of here. He could deal with the rest later. “What information?”

Barney smiled. “I need to know who your soulmate is.”

Clint stared at him, and then it was his turn to laugh. “You're kidding, right? What the hell, Barney? You've kidnapped me to find out who your new in-law is?”

“I've kidnapped you to find out which of your team-mates is currently emotionally compromised,” corrected Barney. “And then I'm going to sell that information to my client for a shit-ton of money.”

“Why does everyone think it's a team-mate?” asked Clint. “Could be anyone. We've got a whole base of agents, techs, support staff-”

Barney shook his head. “I know you, Clint. I knew you'd activated long before the papers did.” He held up a photo of the Avengers standing around together, post-battle. Clint was frozen with a faint frown on his face, his finger pushed down his bracer to where his print was. “You were reading them,” he said. “Anyone who knows where your print is would be able to tell that.”

Ah, crap. Rhodey had been right, that was pretty obvious now he looked at it.

“Okay,” said Clint with a shrug. “Well, it's not like the world and his wife doesn't know I'm activated at this point, but that doesn't mean my soulmate is anyone interesting.”

Barney's smile widened. “You were going to retire,” he said. “Don't give me that look, you think I don't keep a close track of my brother's antics? Ever since you started being splashed all over the internet every time you or a team-mate sneezed, I've been keeping up with it all. 

“You were going to retire, and you disappeared for a couple of months; went to the farm, right? I went out there and saw it had been all fixed up. You were putting it in shape to live there. Can't say I understand why the fuck you'd want to go back to that hellhole but if you were, it would have been long-term. And then, all of a sudden, you're back with the team as if nothing happened.

“There's only one reason you'd have gone back after you'd retired, and that's to be with your soulmate.”

Oh man, Barney really had guessed way too much. “Maybe I just got bored,” Clint said. “If you're used to fighting killer robots every few weeks, farm life is kinda boring.”

“Yeah, not a chance I'm buying that,” said Barney. “So, are you going to tell me now, or are you going to make this difficult?” He pulled the knife out of waistband and twirled it.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Jesus, talk about the bad guy clichés.”

Something pulled Barney's attention away towards the door, which opened a few seconds later. A man in a balaclava carrying a gun came in, and Barney turned to face him. Presumably he and Barney had a conversation but as Clint couldn't see either of their mouths, they might also just have been standing staring at each other in silence for a few minutes. A the end, the man gave a sharp nod that might as well have been a salute and left, shutting the door behind him.

Barney turned back to Clint. "Where were we?" he asked, signing again, slightly clumsily with the knife still in his hand.

"You were about to admit this was a huge mistake and let me go," said Clint, without much hope.

Barney rolled his eyes. "Still living in a fantasy world," he said, stepping forward. "So, are you going to tell me who your soulmate is?"

"It's Ronald MacDonald," said Clint.

Barney let out a quiet sigh. He shifted his grip on the knife and Clint braced himself, but then Barney tucked it away on his belt again. Instead, he flexed his hand, making his leather glove creak, and punched Clint full in the face. It was a pretty good hit but Clint had made a career out of taking hits, so he just shook it off and grinned up at him. "Wait, sorry. Not Ronald, it's his brother. Donald."

Barney hit him again, catching him right on the chin.

"You know," said Clint, "if you really want to bring back fond childhood memories, you should be going for my ears. Not that there's much left to fuck up there now, of course."

Barney's jaw twitched, but he didn't hold back on his next hit. "Who's your soulmate?"

Clint shook his head. "You're an idiot if you think hitting me a few times will get me to tell you anything. You realise I've been through torture training, right? And actual torture - I spent three months captive in Iran, and didn't tell them a damn thing."

Barney shrugged. "Maybe I just like hitting you." He punched Clint again, and Clint gave up, settling into the kind of mindset that meant just riding out the pain.

****


	5. Chapter 5

"You gonna tell me now?" asked Barney, after quite a bit of time had passed. He wasn't bothering to sign now that he was using his hands for something else, but Clint didn't have any problems understanding him. Watching Barney speak had been how he'd learnt to read lips in the first place.

Barney had got bored of just hitting Clint and pulled out his knife again, pushing up Clint's sleeve so that he could carve neat lines along his arm. They weren't particularly deep cuts though, and Clint was finding the pain more of an annoyance than anything else.

"Nope," said Clint. "Hey, here's a question. Why are you suddenly harbouring so much rage? I mean, I get that we're not best buds, but I didn't think we were at slicing-open-flesh levels."

"I guess you thought wrong then," said Barney, pressing the knife into Clint's skin again. Clint gritted his teeth and endured it. "You think your soulmate is reading you right now? They'll be getting all that pain straight down the link."

Clint was trying very hard not to think about what Bucky must be feeling right now. It seemed pretty likely that Bucky wouldn't be coping very well with Clint's disappearance, and even less well with whatever he was getting through the link. Clint had been trying to keep his emotions as upbeat as possible for his benefit, but it was kinda hard when your brother was cutting you up.

He was also trying very hard not to think about Natasha, and how he'd last seen her fighting off several thugs. She must be fine because Barney would surely have tried to use her as leverage if she'd been captured as well. He must know Clint well enough to know that would be more effective than hurting Clint himself.

Barney let out a sigh and stood back. "You know, I really don't want to get too drastic too quickly but if you don't give it up soon, I'm gonna start breaking fingers and that's really gonna fuck with your shooting."

Clint managed a shrug, as if an injury that would destroy his skill with a bow wasn't his greatest fear. "I've had broken fingers before and I'm still the best shot in the world."

"Best official shot," corrected Barney. "It's been a long time since me and you had a contest."

Clint snorted. "Oh, come on. We both know I could always beat you. That won't have changed."

"Maybe I should start with your wrists then," said Barney. "I was gonna leave your shoulders until later, but we can go there now if you want? Or you can just put an end to this and tell me who your soulmate is already."

Clint would have thought that he'd be used to the cutting sense of betrayal that came when someone you thought was broadly on your side turned against you by now, but no, it was still burning into him, making the physical pain dim in comparison. It wasn't as if he and Barney were close, or had even spoken in nearly twenty years, but he'd still thought they'd have each other's backs if need be. This was an unpleasant way to find out he was wrong.

"I'm guessing you haven't activated yet," said Clint. Barney's print was on his hand, where it was covered up by his gloves. "If you had, you'd know that there's no way I'd give my soulmate up, not even if it costs me the ability to shoot."

Barney twitched, but turned whatever emotion that had prompted into a glare before Clint could see it. "What about what your soulmate would want you to do? They probably don't want you hurt."

This was pretty much a lose-lose situation on that front. Bucky was going to lose his shit whatever happened here. "Whereas they'll be overjoyed if I give them up," said Clint. "Right."

"You're not giving them up," said Barney. "It's not as if it's a choice between them getting hurt and you. It's just information, it's not a knife in their back."

"Right," said Clint, sceptically. "And this buyer you think you've got, they're not gonna use that information to hurt either of us."

Barney's expression shifted slightly and Clint had a sudden realisation that only made the betrayal cut deeper.

"And you're definitely not planning to sell me along with the information if it turns out my soulmate is someone they'd want that kind of leverage over," he added.

Barney's face gave away that that was exactly what he was planning. Clint had to take a deep breath against the pain of that realisation.

"Christ," he muttered. "What happened to the boy who taught me how to flick bottle caps?"

"I tried to do this the easy way," snapped Barney. "I tried to figure out who it was by following you around, but you just stayed locked up on that base almost all the time. And then you gave away that you'd activated to the whole world so now I'm not the only one watching. I don't get any money if it ends up splashed all over the internet."

"Oh right, that totally justifies this," snapped Clint. "Go ahead and break my fingers."

"Such a drama queen," muttered Barney, and then did just that, snapping the little finger on Clint's right hand while Clint gritted his teeth to keep himself from crying out.

"Who's your soulmate?" asked Barney, taking hold of Clint's ring finger.

Clint took a deep breath. "Minnie Mouse," he said, and couldn't keep in a muffled cry as Barney broke his finger.

"Idiot," muttered Barney. "As if I don't know that Pluto was always your favourite."

"You're a fucking asshole," said Clint. "Seriously, who does this to their brother? To family? Oh wait, I know. Dad did. I hope you're proud to be taking after him."

"Don't be a brat," said Barney. "Just tell me who your damned soulmate is."

He was starting to sound a bit desperate and Clint hadn't missed the fact that, so far, his attempts at torture had been a bit second-rate. You didn't try to get a trained agent's deepest secret out of them with a few punches and a couple of cuts. Even the broken fingers were more of a warm up than anything else. Apparently, it wasn't as easy to torture your brother as Barney had been counting on.

"Don't think I will, thanks," said Clint. "How about you let me go instead, and we both pretend this didn't happen? I'll tell the other Avengers it was a mistake so they don't try and tear you apart."

Barney snorted. "Yeah, cuz you're the one with the upper hand here."

Clint raised an eyebrow, just as there was a shuddering vibration that made Barney whip his head up and look around.

"That was an explosion, wasn't it?" said Clint. He grinned. "Don't need my ears in to know when my friends are here."

Barney turned away, dropping the knife back on the table and grabbing his bow and quiver, slinging them over his shoulder. He charged out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Awesome. So now Clint just had to wait to be rescued.

He managed to sit still for thirty seconds before he got bored. Screw this, he didn't want to be just sitting around waiting when Bucky turned up.

The ropes around his wrists were pretty tight, but Barney had unintentionally done him a favour by breaking his fingers. Okay, yeah, they hurt like fuck, but he was able to wriggle his right hand out of the rope and from there it was easy. Well, maybe _easy_ was over-selling it, but it was doable. Painful, but doable.

The first thing he did once he was free was to press a finger to his print. Bucky was predictably angry, mixed with a sickening sense of worry that Clint recognised all too well, but there was a targeted determination over the top of that which made Clint even more sure that it was the Avengers causing the explosions. Time to go out and meet them, then.

Barney had left a couple of knives on the table, which really was an unforgivably rookie mistake. He had remembered to lock the door behind him but the lock was easy enough for Clint to get through with the help of one of the knives. Or, well, that he usually would have found easy to get through. The broken fingers made it a bit tricky.

There were another two vibrating explosions and he wished he had his hearing aids. For all he knew there were a hundred guys on the other side of the door. He braced the palm of his hand against it but couldn't feel anything. 

He slowly inched it open, bracing himself, only to find an empty corridor outside. Okay, well, that was an anticlimax.

He took a better grip on one of the knives with his good hand, leaving the other stuffed in his waistband, and cautiously set off down it. There were no windows here either which made him think he was in a basement. That meant he needed to find the stairs.

The corridor curved around a corner that he glanced around to find a set of stairs -so far so good- and two guards with guns. Not so good.

They didn't seem to be paying any attention to their surroundings, though. In fact, it looked a bit like they were having an argument, if the hand gestures were anything to go by. They were wearing balaclavas though so Clint had no idea what it might be about. He glanced again at the stairs behind them, then took a deep breath.

The knives he had weren't throwing knives but that didn't mean that Clint couldn't hit a target with them, especially not when the target was as well-presented as a broad back only a few metres away.

He hit the guard right in the shoulder, making him drop his gun and collapse forward. His friend spun to face Clint, bringing his gun up, but he was too slow. Clint was already right there, kicking his legs out from under him and grabbing his head to knock it against the wall. His eyes fluttered shut and he slumped, unconscious.

Clint took his gun and turned around to the other guard, who was clutching at his shoulder and staring at him fearfully.

"If you're talking to me, you might as well not bother," said Clint. "Your boss stole my hearing aids." He grabbed the guy's gun, tucking it into his waistband.

"Lucky for you, I'm not that much of a bastard, so I'm gonna leave that knife in your shoulder so you don't bleed out. Just stay nice and quiet here until the medics come, yeah?"

There was frantic nodding from the guy. Clint gave him a thumbs up, then headed up the stairs.

At the top, there was what looked like some kind of waiting room with a row of chairs along one side and a coffee machine in the corner. A desk in the corner had a shabby sign above it saying _Citywide Cabs_. Most importantly, for Clint, there was a door. Hell yeah, his chance to get the fuck out of this place.

It had been early evening when he'd been kidnapped but it seemed that most of the night had passed now. The sky was starting to go grey with the dawn.

The door opened on to a road that was barely more than an alley but Clint could see a larger road to the left, although there didn't seem to be any traffic on it. That was actually good news because if the Avengers were attacking, they'd have blocked the area off. He just had to find exactly where they were attacking. This looked like a back way, so it seemed pretty likely they were around the front somewhere.

He was so close to Bucky he could nearly feel it. He just had to find him now. He took a moment to press his print again, in time to catch a moment of violent satisfaction that meant Bucky was definitely engaged in a fight. Yeah, definitely time to get back to him. Clint set off down the alley.

The street at the end was deserted, but showed definite signs of the Avengers having been there. Several of the parked cars had distinctive shield-shaped dents in them and there were enough bullet casings on the ground to indicate a major firefight. One that had apparently disappeared inside the building through the large hole someone had blown in the side of the building.

Clint contemplated yelling in case any of the team was in earshot, but there was too much risk that he'd just draw out Barney's minions instead. Man, this would be so much easier if he'd been able to find his hearing aids. Or, you know, not be deaf in the first place. He'd almost certainly be able to hear just how far away the battle had got and head towards it.

There was a sudden movement and he jumped back as an arrow flew by from somewhere high behind him and buried itself in a car. He immediately looked around to see where it had come from and saw a black shape silhouetted on the rooftop above his head, raising a metal fist and then ducking down low and heading out of Clint's field of view.

His heart leapt. “Bucky!” he shouted, because fuck Barney's minions, he wanted his soulmate to give him a cuddle.

Now he was looking up, he could see a helicopter hovering overhead with _ABC_ emblazoned on the side, no doubt recording the whole thing. Great, he'd be able to catch up on what the others had been up to once he got home.

Bucky didn't reappear on the roof so Clint took another deep breath to yell again, “BUC-!”

He was cut off by a blinding blow to the head that sent him reeling into the wall. He caught himself on the arm Barney had merrily carved up and pain shot through him, sending everything white for a moment. When he came to, he was sprawled on the pavement and a balaclavaed minion was standing over him, gun pointed straight at him.

“You ain't gonna kill me,” said Clint, gingerly reaching up to touch his head. “Your boss wants me alive.”

The man pulled his balaclava off and glared at him. “Fuck what the boss wants,” he said, over-shaping his words in the way people did when they knew they were talking to a lipreader. “You put a knife in my best bro.”

Ah crap. 

The guy clicked the safety off his gun and set his finger to squeeze the trigger.

Just as Clint was wondering if he should have already planned a last thought to avoid the indecision that was freezing his brain up now, there was a blur and the man disappeared, thrown violently to one side. In his place appeared Bucky.

“Oh, thank fuck,” said Clint, struggling to sit up.

“You stupid fucking idiot,” said Bucky, glaring at him. The familiarity of his face made reading his lips pretty easy, even in the dim light of the dawn and with Clint's head still spinning from hitting the wall. Plus, he probably could have guessed what he'd say anyway. “I told you to take care, not get kidnapped!”

“I didn't-” started Clint, but Bucky's attention was torn away. The minion hadn't been knocked out by his fall and had somehow managed to keep hold of his gun. He was aiming it at Clint again.

Bucky growled something that Clint couldn't read from his angle, darted over, pulled back his arm, and buried his fist in the guy's face.

Actually buried it. Bone splintered as it sank through his skull, blood and brain tissue going flying.

Holy shit. Clint was sure if he should be impressed or- No, he was going with impressed.

Bucky turned back to Clint and took a stride towards him with an unmistakable look of intent in his eye as the body of the guard collapsed to the ground.

“Remember the camera overhead,” said Clint quickly, because as much as he wanted to lose himself in Bucky's embrace, he wasn't sure he could take another roasting from Erika.

Bucky's stride hitched and he gritted his teeth with frustration, then fell to his knees in front of Clint without touching him.

“You better be okay.”

“I'm fine,” said Clint. His hand was twitching to reach out for Bucky, but he kept it tucked close. “Seriously, nothing major.”

Bucky shook his head. “I'm gonna need a list of everything you consider minor so I can draw my own conclusions,” he said. “But first-” He reached up to his ear and the comms unit that was hidden behind his hair. “I've got Hawkeye,” he said. “Alive and apparently well, outside on the main street.”

He gave Clint a look. “Widow says to tell you that she's done with re-enacting Damascus all the time.”

“She's okay?” asked Clint. “They didn't hurt her?”

Bucky snorted. “It'd take more than a handful of second-rate minions to hurt her. You, though, you seem to get hurt every time you leave the base. Give me the full rundown. I can see your face is a mess.”

Clint winced. “Yeah, I'm not exactly the prettiest girl at the ball any more,” he said. “It seriously is all minor, though. I've got bruises, some cuts on my arm, couple of broken fingers-”

Bucky's jaw clenched and he let a long, slow breath out through his teeth, but didn't say anything so Clint kept going.

“-and maybe a concussion, I don't know about that one yet. Might just be another bruise. Oh, and he took my aids.”

Bucky's face was grim but he just nodded. “Concussion means you go straight to medical,” he said, signing along with his words as much as he could. His vocabulary wasn't quite up to _concussion_ yet. His metal hand was covered with gore, but he didn't seem to have noticed, or if he'd noticed, he didn't care.

“Fucking doctors,” Clint muttered, making a face.

“You wouldn't have to go near them if you'd taken a bit more care,” said Bucky. “Or if-” He reached in his pocket and pulled something out. “I worked out where we went wrong. You didn't have this with you.”

It was the bullet-dented keyring. Clint grinned and took it from him. “You remember that you did have it on you the last time you got kidnapped, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe it only works for you.”

He turned his head and Clint followed his gaze to see Steve and Natasha approaching. Steve was saying something, but Clint only caught the tail-end of it and he was too far away to properly identify words when the light was this bad.

"They took my ears," he said, familiar frustration welling up in him. He pushed it back down. There was nothing he could do about his hearing and he'd spent a couple of weeks being upset when it first happened. No point in retreading the same ground.

Natasha signed, _There are spares in the quinjet. Are you hurt?_

He shook his head. "Not really. You?”

She lifted an insulted eyebrow. _Are you seriously suggesting those minions could have got close to hurting me?_

“I guess not,” said Clint. He ran back through what he'd seen of the guys attacking Natasha before he'd been drugged and wondered just how badly they'd been hurt. “And the kid?” he remembered. “She got away?”

Natasha nodded. _They told her they were old friends who wanted to surprise you, and she bought it. Her pride and her belief in the innate goodness of humanity were damaged, but nothing else._

Clint nodded. Well, those things would have ended up getting bruised at some point anyway. “How far away are we parked?"

_Not far. The others are just rounding up the last of the bad guys._

Steve said something else and she translated for him.

_Cap wants to know what this was about._

Clint made a face. "I'll tell you later," he said, then a thought struck him and he looked at Bucky, who was still crouched in front of him, hands clenched into fists as if to stop himself reaching out for Clint. That was probably for the best, although Clint couldn't keep himself from just wanting to collapse against Bucky and cling on for a bit.

The quinjet. They'd get back to the quinjet and then he'd be able to just hold on to Bucky for a bit. Even if that would have probably ended with him getting brain matter on his shirt. Eh, Clint could get a new shirt.

Was there anything to wrap up before they headed for the quinjet? Oh, right.

"Barney," he said to Bucky. "You were fighting him on the roof. What happened?"

Bucky blinked. "The archer?" Clint took a special amount of pleasure in the fact that he knew the ASL for archer. They'd had a lovely day at the range on Clint's farm while he'd taught Bucky all kinds of ASL archery vocab. It had ended with Bucky going to his knees and sucking Clint off while he was still clinging to his bow, knuckles going white on the riser. "He got away. I was a bit distracted by an asshole pointing a gun at you."

Relief washed over Clint and then he wondered why. Less than an hour ago, Barney had been torturing him. "Was he hurt?"

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. "Not enough to stop him running off. I don't think we'll catch him now."

Natasha frowned. _Why do you care?_

Clint managed a rueful shrug. "He's my brother."

Bucky flinched and then stared at him. "And he tortured you?" He didn't know the sign for _tortured_. Clint wasn't sure he wanted to give him that vocabulary.

He shrugged. "He did a pretty shitty job of it."

 _Cap says we'll get Fury to put a search out for him,_ said Natasha. _I'll make sure it's detain only, not kill._

Clint nodded at her in gratitude. "Okay, who wants to help me get up?" he said, shifting his weight and wincing as the movement made his head throb. "As subtly as possible, for the benefit of the news cameras?"

Bucky made an aborted motion towards him, then his scowl deepened and he stood up. "If I touch you, I'm not gonna be able to let go."

“Plus, you're kinda messy,” Clint pointed out. Bucky glanced down at his hand as if seeing the blood on it for the first time.

Natasha came forward instead, taking Clint's arm and pulling him up, then holding him steady when the sudden change in elevation made him wobble.

"I'm fine," he said, pulling away. "If it is a concussion, it's only a very small one."

She snorted but stepped back. _I've known you too long to trust your definition of a small concussion._

The others were leading a group of captured minions out of the main entrance, and Clint could see Fury's agents and a handful of police heading down to take them away. The fight was pretty much over, which meant it was definitely time to go back to base, where he could crawl into bed with Bucky.

The quinjet was in a parking lot just up the road, by the barrier the police had put up to block off the area. The usual gaggle of media were huddled behind it and Clint took care to walk as steadily as he could and raised an arm to wave at them. 

The moment he was inside the jet, out of sight, he turned to Bucky, who opened his arms for a second then blinked and stepped back, looking at his metal arm.

"I should wash this off.”

Clint rolled his eyes. "I'm already trashing all these clothes," he said, stepping in and collapsing against Bucky, clinging on to him and let out a long breath.

Bucky put his arms around him in return, gently so as to avoid joggling his injuries.

"Oh man, that's what I wanted," said Clint. "Fuck the media, man."

He felt a nod against his shoulder. He held where he was for as long as he thought he could get away with it, then reluctantly pulled back.

Natasha was holding his spare aids and he tucked them into his ears. Sound rushed back in and Clint let himself relax.

"I think we should all learn sign language," said Steve, slowly.

Clint turned to stare at him. "It's fine, I manage." The last thing he needed was the team making special allowances for him. He was completely capable of keeping up with everyone else, even if he didn't have his hearing, or superpowers, or whatever.

Steve shook his head. "It's not about _managing_ ," he said. "We can't rely on Bucky or Natasha to always be around if you lose your aids."

"Do we all have to learn Russian as well then?" asked Clint. "And Sokovian? And, I don't know, does Vision use binary?"

"It's not the same thing," said Steve. "We're a team. We should be able to support each other."

"I don't need _supporting_ ," protested Clint.

“The team should be prepared for all eventualities,” said Steve. “Communication is vitally important, and the more methods of that we have the better.”

"I think it's a good idea," said Natasha. Clint turned and gave her a betrayed stare that she ignored. "I can teach you all if you want?"

Steve nodded decisively. "We'll have daily lessons for a bit."

Clint sighed and sent Bucky a look, hoping for commiseration, but from Bucky's expression he was more on Steve's side than Clint's. Traitor.

Natasha half-turned away and pressed her hand to her ear, then glanced back. "Fury has put out that search," she said and Clint nodded, thinking that he didn't think they'd have much luck. If Barney had been able to tail Clint around and not get picked up, he could probably avoid Fury's guys.

Bucky let out a long breath. "You gonna tell us what this was all about now?" he asked. His hand found its way to Clint's shoulder, and then down his arm to take his fingers. Clint squeezed it.

He didn't really want to tell Bucky that Barney had wanted to know about him, but he also didn't want Bucky finding out in front of the whole team. He wrapped the hand that wasn't holding Bucky's around the keyring in his pocket and took the plunge.

"He figured out I'd activated before the media did, and was looking to find out who my soulmate is so he could sell the information on to some buyer he'd found."

Bucky flinched. "And this is your _brother_?" he repeated.

Clint shrugged. "Not all families are all that close."

Bucky frowned but didn't say anything else. Instead, he lifted Clint's arm and then pressed his finger against Clint's print. His love and affection poured into Clint, along with a hefty does of righteous anger on his behalf. Clint relaxed sideways until he was leaning against him and just let it wash over him.

Steve sighed. "Soulmates shouldn't be a reason for someone to get hurt."

Clint shrugged. "This is why we class them as top secret, right?"

"It's still not right," said Steve, stubbornly.

"Lots of things aren't right," said Natasha. "We need to concentrate on the fact that Barney got away, and that we don't know who his buyer was."

"You think they'll come after Clint again?" asked Bucky.

"I don't think Barney will," said Clint slowly, thinking back. "I don't think he realised how different it was going to be to torture his brother compared to a stranger."

"If he wants the money that badly, he'll get over it," said Natasha, ever the optimist about human behaviour.

"At any rate, we need to find him," said Steve. "Natasha, can you liaise with Fury's guys on that one?"

She nodded. "I'll see if there's been any chatter about Clint as well."

Clint sighed. "You know, my life was so much simpler when no one knew who I was."

"I'm sure there are plenty of people who still don't know who you are," said Natasha, in what she may have thought was a comforting manner.

****

Bucky dragged Clint straight to medical when they got back to base, then sat and glowered at the medical staff as they did the usual prodding.

"It's not a concussion," was the eventual verdict from the doctor, but that was about the only good news. She tutted over his fingers before announcing she was going to have to reset both of them, which was possibly more painful than when they had been broken in the first place. Clint tried to keep his manly grunt in, but he let out enough noise to make Bucky twitch and growl at the doctor.

“Chill,” said Clint. “Not her fault, remember.”

“I think we can get away with just a splint rather than a cast,” she said, apparently unphased about the super-soldier giving her a murderous glare. “But only if you absolutely promise not to take it off before I say you can.”

Clint gave her his most sincere look. “Of course I won't.”

She gave him a very sceptical look in response. “Maybe a cast would be better.”

“It's fine,” interrupted Bucky. “I'll make sure he takes good care of them.”

Clint sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to get around Bucky. “How long do I need it on?”

“Three weeks, maybe four,” she said. “I'm going to sign you off active duty for six weeks, but it may end up being longer.”

Clint groaned. “Aw, come on. If the splint comes off after three weeks, surely I can-”

“No,” she said, firmly. “And I said three _or_ four weeks. If you strain them, it'll be longer.”

“He won't strain them,” said Bucky, in a dark voice. Clint glanced over at him and gave up on arguing. It could wait until Bucky was feeling less over-protective.

She splinted his fingers and strapped them to his middle finger, then dressed his cuts and checked to make sure none of his bruises were anything worse.

"I want to go to bed," Clint told Bucky in what some might have considered a whine, as they left the medical unit.

Bucky seemed pretty worn around the edges as well, although he was still awake enough to take his turn being the one to help Clint out of his clothes.

"Just trash them all," said Clint, crawling under the covers.

"Your pants are okay," said Bucky, looking at them.

Clint shook his head. "Trash them." He hooked his aids out and set them on the bedside table. "And then get in and give me a cuddle."

Bucky pitched Clint's clothes in the trash. _Need to wash my arm,_ he signed, then headed into the bathroom.

Oh, right. Clint kept forgetting about that. He wondered when he stopped being the kind of guy who found the tangible evidence of someone punching into someone else's brain disturbing, and then figured it didn't really matter. The truth is, as long as it was Bucky doing the punching and some low-life bad guy being punched, he was never going to care all that much.

He let his eyes fall shut as he waited for Bucky, then opened them in a hurry when his dozing mind immediately conjured up an image of his father. Oh right, if your primary nightmare fodder was being beaten by a family member, a day of being beaten by another family member probably wasn't going to point to unbroken sleep.

Bucky came back in wearing just a pair of boxers. Clint took the chance to thoroughly approve of the view, which earned him an eyeroll.

 _Thought you were tired,_ signed Bucky.

"Never too tired for that," said Clint. He waggled his eyebrows and reached out his hands towards Bucky. "C'mon."

 _What about being too-_ Bucky stopped signing and made a face. "What's injured?"

Clint raised his hands to show him, and Bucky repeated the movement. "Don't worry about signing right now, though," said Clint. "I can read you fine from here."

Bucky stubbornly shook his head. _Cap was right earlier. We should be better at ASL. I need more practice._

"I don't need pandering to," muttered Clint.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's not pandering," he said, lifting the covers to climb in beside Clint. "And you're gonna need to show me the sign for that one too. Actually, it would help a lot if you signed at me as well, so I get practice reading it."

Clint sighed. "It's not-"

"Nope," said Bucky, settling in and wrapping an arm around his chest. "No complaining. I want communicating with my soulmate to be easy, and I know you find signing easier than lipreading."

 _Okay, fine,_ signed Clint. _But you're teaching me Russian._

"Okay, I don't know what that last sign was, but I'm kinda hoping it's some kind of sex thing," said Bucky, stroking his fingers down over Clint's stomach to his hip.

Clint snorted. "Not sure there's anything new I need to learn about that." He turned into Bucky's arm, giving him a kiss. "Maybe not until after I've got some sleep, though."

Bucky nodded. "Definitely." He rolled to switch out the light before settling back into place, arm tucked around Clint.

Clint relaxed against him, feeling the stress finally drain out of him as exhaustion tugged at his mind. He shut his eyes, then felt a brief movement against his hip.

Bucky was tapping something in Morse code. Clint concentrated for a moment, and then smiled. It was _I love you_.

"Sap," he muttered fondly, and kissed the nearest part of Bucky he could reach before letting himself fall asleep.

****

As he'd expected, Clint didn't sleep particularly well. At least dealing with the nightmares was easier than it had been before he'd activated, back when he'd usually ended up getting up and going to look for a distraction. Instead, now each time he started awake, he took a handful of slow, deep breaths, pressed himself closer to Bucky, resolutely shut his eyes, and eventually drifted back off. Having his soulmate sleeping beside him was apparently enough of a distraction on its own.

It was mid afternoon when he woke up to find Bucky awake as well, propped up against the wall and frowning at his phone. Clint felt pretty stiff, but given he was curled up in bed with his soulmate and not still tied up in a basement being beaten up by his brother, he counted it as a win.

"Morning," said Clint, rolling over so that he could stretch, then winced as it pulled on his bruises.

 _It's afternoon_ , signed Bucky, pausing to give Clint a brief kiss before he returned his attention to his phone.

Clint reached for his aids. "What's going on?"

Bucky made a face. "Erika's mad. I seem to have made a public relations fuck up."

"Makes a change from me making them," said Clint, sitting up. "What did you do?"

Bucky turned the phone towards him instead of answering. There was a list of headlines on screen.

_Winter Soldier Kills Man With One Punch_  
_Violent Avenger Displays No Remorse Over Death_  
_Can We Trust A 'Hero' Who Kills So Casually?_  
_Watch Brains Fly As The Winter Soldier Pummels A Man To Death On Camera!_

"Ah," said Clint, slowly. "They caught that then?"

Bucky nodded. "Yep. Looks like they had a really great angle on it."

"Good for them," said Clint.

"But not for me," said Bucky. He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was meant to be proving I'm not an evil killing machine, or whatever."

Clint shrugged. "Well, we know you're not, so screw the rest of them."

"Do we?" asked Bucky. He shook his head. "I don't know, it's not like I even thought twice about it. I could have taken him out and still left him alive, rather than just punching through his skull."

"You did," said Clint. "The first time he threatened me, you just knocked him down. And, come on, he was threatening your soulmate. People do crazy shit when their soulmate is threatened."

Bucky shook his head. "Maybe," he said, although he didn't sound like it. He clicked off the phone and tossed it on the bed. "Too late to worry about it now. I'm guessing you want coffee?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," agreed Clint. "You gonna bring it to me in bed?"

Bucky snorted. "Not a chance."

"Aw man," said Clint, making himself get out of bed. "Where's the love gone?"

"I think it started to fade away about the same time you started with the raccoon thing."

Bucky did let Clint slump at the kitchen table while he put the coffee on. "You want any food?"

"Fuck yes," said Clint. "Do we have pizza? Can we send Steve out for some if we don't?"

"No, we can't," said Steve, coming into the room, still in uniform. Clint had the odd disconnect that happened when you slept during the day while other people are still up and doing stuff. He wondered if Steve had got any sleep at all. "This is why we gave Fury space for his agency on site, so we could send his guys when we wanted take-out."

Clint considered calling Fury up and ordering a couple of pepperoni pizzas, and decided he liked his head attached.

"Good news is, we've got some here," said Bucky, opening the freezer. "No highly trained agents need to be sent out to bring back food when they're meant to be hunting down everyone who was behind you being kidnapped and tortured."

"You had any luck with that?" Clint asked Steve.

He shook his head. "Not yet. None of the guys we arrested knew anything about your brother's plans. We'll get this buyer, though."

Clint nodded. "Sure," he said, not believing it for a moment. If Barney had disappeared into the wind, there was no guarantee they'd ever hear from him again and without him, there was no link to whomever his buyer had been.

"That wasn't what I needed to talk to you guys about, though," said Steve. "I've just spent ten minutes on the phone with Erika."

Bucky let out a groan as he slid a mug of precious coffee across to Clint, who cradled it in both hands and breathed in the steam. Oh yeah, that was the stuff.

"Come on, Stevie, you can't be about to get on my back about this."

"I'm not," said Steve. "And I told Erika not to either. We can't start worrying about what the media will think about us when we're in the middle of a mission."

Clint took a slow, perfect mouthful of coffee, closing his eyes to savour it.

"So, we're just ignoring the whole thing?" said Bucky.

"Essentially," agreed Steve. "I've authorised her to release a statement saying basically the same thing, and also highlighted the dangerous nature of what we do and the fact that the guy was about to shoot Clint. Other than that..." He shrugged. "They'll get over it."

"Oh yeah," agreed Clint. "The media are well known for just letting this stuff go."

"Shut up and drink your coffee," said Bucky.

There was very little that Clint wanted to do more.

****

The media didn't get over it. Round after round of articles came out over the next few days, debating whether or not it was right for a 'violent killer' like Bucky to be on a team that was meant to be for 'heroes'. Clint did his best to ignore it all and tried to distract Bucky from reading every single editorial calling for his psychological evaluations to be published 'for the good of the nation'.

Broken fingers meant Clint was banned from shooting so he couldn't distract Bucky from brooding like he usually would. Instead, he was forced to resort to sex. Well, okay, he'd probably have gone with sex anyway, but he'd have at least mixed it up a bit. Not that he didn't have options, of course. Just, sex was what came to mind first. Sex was pretty much always what came to mind first when he thought about Bucky, if he was being honest.

"I thought all this was bullshit," Clint reminded Bucky when he found him holed up in their lounge when he'd thought he was off sparring with Steve. "Come on, let's play _Call of Duty_."

Bucky scowled and threw down the tablet he'd been staring at. "It _is_ bullshit," he said. "Just, it's bullshit that's about me. Hard not to care that the country thinks you're a psycho."

"You're not a psycho," said Clint. "Blow shit up with me."

Bucky snorted, but reached for a controller. "Oh yeah, we're totally well-adjusted," he muttered.

A week went by, but the media machine showed no signs of powering down. Psychological 'experts' were being pulled out of all kinds of dark corners so that they could give their opinion on Bucky's actions, and whether or not it meant he should be locked up or just kicked off the team.

Clint came back from a check-up in medical to find Bucky watching a panel on Fox News debating whether or not he was a danger to the public.

"Seriously?" he asked. "Come on, these fuckers don't know what they're talking about. They haven't even met you."

“Right," said Bucky. "None of the people who've actually met me would be terrified of me. Definitely not the ones who met me as the Winter Soldier, or the agents who were here during the Hydra attack, or-"

"Okay, no," said Clint, grabbing the remote from him and flicking off the TV. "We're not doing wallowing in self-pity. Get up."

He grabbed at Bucky's shoulder and gave it a pull. Bucky resisted.

"I'm not wallowing," he muttered, slumping back into the sofa. "Where are we going?"

"For a joyride," said Clint. "Come on, come on, it's gonna be fun."

Bucky unfolded a bit. "A joyride?"

"Yup," said Clint. "We'll take a quinjet out and you can have a go flying it. Seems like something you might need to know."

Bucky perked up. "Yeah, okay. Let's do that."

Clint took them up and flew them until they were far enough away from the base not to be visible then handed the controls over to Bucky.

"It's pretty simple," he said, "just-"

Bucky put the throttle down and they shot off fast enough to push Clint back against his seat.

"Yeah, I think I've got it," he said, pulling them up into a steep climb and then spiralling down again.

"It's like flying with Tony," said Clint. He grinned. "Awesome."

"Let's see how fast we can go," said Bucky, pushing the hammer down.

It turned out that a quinjet went pretty fast, if you disregarded all aviation laws. They end up somewhere in Canada, where Clint showed Bucky the best way to do a loop-de-loop.

"Are those polar bears down there?" asked Bucky, and they dove down low to hover over them. Clint snapped a couple of photos on his phone and sent them to Natasha.

 _I hope you're not going yourself into trouble again,_ she sent back. Clint ignored her.

"You hungry?" he asked Bucky. "I know a good seafood place in Nova Scotia."

Bucky hesitated. "Nah, we better head back. Don't want to get spotted together."

Clint made a face. "They do take-out," he said. "I can just nip in and grab something, then we can go eat it somewhere isolated." He glanced back down at the landscape below them. "Somewhere with less snow."

"Okay," said Bucky, turning the jet towards Nova Scotia. "I'm going in, though. You stay in the quinjet."

Clint rolled his eyes. "You better get over this over-protective streak pretty soon," he grumbled.

"Sure," said Bucky. "Just as soon as you stop getting hurt."

"That's hardly fair," protested Clint.

"Since I've known you, you've broken three bones, had two concussions and bruised ribs, not to mention been covered with cuts and bruises more often than you aren't," said Bucky. "And I've not even known you a year yet. Seems more than fair."

Clint made a face. He couldn't really argue with that. "We're equal on kidnappings," he pointed out.

Bucky snorted. "Do me a favour and don't try and get ahead on that one, yeah? Not sure my heart can take it."

"I'll do my best," said Clint. "Not exactly something I can guarantee, though. We kinda have a risky job."

Bucky let his shoulders slump. "Yeah," he agreed. "Maybe we should have just retired like you meant to."

"Hell no," said Clint. "Are you kidding? You'd have been fucking miserable and bored on the farm." He took a deep breath and shrugged one shoulder. "So would I," he admitted.

Bucky let out a sigh. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Still don't like you getting hurt, though."

"Then you've got the wrong soulmate," said Clint. "I mean, it's been a rough few months, but it's not been an unusually high level of injuries for me. Ask Nat."

"If that's meant to be reassuring, you're gonna have to try harder," said Bucky.

Clint shook his head. "I'm not trying to reassure you, I'm trying to be realistic. I'm an average guy doing a dangerous job. I get hurt. You need to get used to that. I have."

Bucky was silent for a long time. They flew down to Nova Scotia and Clint guided him to where the restaurant was. It was right on the beach and the tide was out so Bucky brought the quinjet down onto the sand, which drew a bit of a crowd.

"It occurs to me that this might end up pissing off Erika," said Clint, peering out at the handful of pointing people. At least half of them had their phones out and were taking photos.

Bucky ignored that. He turned to Clint once the engine was off and took his hand, looking down at the splinting around his fingers. "It's not you getting hurt that wakes me up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night," he said, "although I don't like it much. It's how close you keep getting to dying. I can't stand the idea of losing you."

Clint used his other hand to take Bucky's, giving it a squeeze. "I get that. I feel the same about you, but it's the nature of the game we play. We live dangerous lives. You know I'll do everything I can to always come back to you."

Bucky didn't look happy, but he nodded. "I know that. Just-" He cut himself off and shook his head. "Fuck it. Let's get lunch." He stood up abruptly and strode over to hit the door button, pulling his hood up in what was likely to be a vain attempt to avoid recognition.

Clint sighed and sat back, watching through the window as Bucky jogged out, skirting around the crowd with his head down in a pretty clear _don't talk to me_ signal. Clint tipped his head back against the seat and sighed.

It didn't take long for Bucky to get back with the food, then they flew out over the woods until they found an isolated clearing and landed.

“We should start keeping picnic chairs in the quinjet,” said Clint as they settled down on a rock.

“Yeah, can't see Steve going for that,” said Bucky. “You realise we're going to get a glaring for this when we get back?”

“Oh yeah,” agreed Clint. “It's cool, I've got a plan.”

Bucky gave him a blank stare. “Why does that make me so nervous?”

“Because you worry too much,” said Clint. “Trust me. It'll be fine.” He was ninety percent sure he wasn't lying.

“Right,” said Bucky, slowly. He handed Clint a bottle of soda and started to pull out the food. “Why don't I believe you in the slightest?”

“Because you're a distrustful bastard,” said Clint, distracted by trying to get the bottle open. When you had three fingers all strapped together, screw tops presented a challenge.

Bucky let out a sigh, took the bottle from him and opened it, then handed it back.

Clint made a face. “I could have got it.”

“Doesn't mean I have to sit here and watch you struggle,” said Bucky.

“Thanks,” said Clint, taking a swig. “Good to know you're always got my back.”

There was a silence and Clint glanced over to see that Bucky's face had clouded over again. “If I properly had your back, you wouldn't have got injured to start with,” he muttered.

“Oh no, none of that,” said Clint. “C'mon, guilt and self-doubt don't get a place in this. You came and got me as soon as you could, didn't you? Which was soon enough to mean that I was able to walk away.”

Bucky's expression didn't change, although he gave a grudging nod. Clint let out a long breath and looked up at the sky. It was on the chilly side, but the sun was shining and there were only a handful of clouds. Around them, there was no sound but the wind in the trees and the birds.

“Bucky, you need to accept that sometimes, I'm going to get hurt, and there's nothing you can do to stop that. Otherwise...well. Otherwise we're going to keep having this conversation for the rest of our lives, and I'm not sure I can handle that.”

Bucky was silent for a long enough time for Clint to take advantage and get started on the food. He'd learnt from bitter experience that a super-soldier could get through food at a speed that meant the normal guy next to them was lucky to get a couple of bites.

Eventually Bucky sighed and pulled the take out container from him. “Give me that,” he muttered. “Christ. I thought this soulmate thing was meant to be easy.”

“You're kidding, right?” asked Clint. “The love is easy, sure, but relationships take a lot more than that, and it's all a fuck-ton of hard work.”

“Steve and Sam make it look easy,” said Bucky.

“Steve and Sam are freaks,” said Clint. “And besides, Sam's got all that counselling know-how, that's got to help. I don't think we've been doing so badly, anyway. I mean, we're not Nat and Bruce.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Bucky. “I guess that's true. I mean, not that they seem unhappy or anything, just...”

“Yeah,” agreed Clint. “And you should have seen them when they were first feeling things out. Soulmates just means the raw potential is there, doesn't mean you don't have to work at it.”

Bucky let out a long sigh. “Figures. Nothing else in life ever seems to be easy.”

He sounded pretty down about it and, wow, okay, Clint hadn't meant to make him even more depressed. This trip had meant to be about cheering him up.

“The sex was easy,” he pointed out. “Oh hey, speaking of, you realise there's no one within miles of us right now, right?”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “No way. It's way too cold for alfresco fucking. You'll have to wait until we're back on base and can get to a bed. Which will be after we've run the Steve-gauntlet.”

“I told you,” said Clint, “don't worry about him. I've got it covered.”

“Yeah, seeing is believing, Hawkeye,” said Bucky.

“I'll prove it to you,” said Clint. “Just you wait.”

Shadows were beginning to fall when they finally turned the quinjet back towards the base. Clint pulled his phone out, ignored the unread texts from Steve, Natasha and Maria, and scrolled until he found Sam's number.

_We're on our way back. Can you tell Steve that if he's mad, he should save it all up for me? Bucky needed to be taken out of his head for a bit, and I figured this was the easiest way to distract him._

He waited a few minutes before there was a reply.

_I get that, things have been pretty intense for him. I'll talk to Steve._

He gave himself a celebratory fistpump.

“Oh man, what have you done?” said Bucky.

Clint grinned at him. “Sam's counselling-fu is working in our favour today.”

Steve was waiting for them at the quinjet pad, but Sam was beside him and he didn't look like he was about to rip them apart.

"Have a good time?" he asked as Bucky and Clint stepped off the jet.

"I thought he could do with a bit of flying experience," said Clint. "Always good to have another person who can pilot, right?"

"Right," said Steve. "Well, I'll leave you to explain to Erika why a Canadian restaurant is tweeting photos of the Winter Soldier popping by for lunch."

Bucky shrugged. "We got hungry."

"That definitely sounds like the kind of logic Erika will get behind," said Sam.

Clint let out a sigh. "You'd think we weren't allowed out in public."

"That will probably be the next step," said Steve. "Especially as you didn't bring us back any food."

Bucky rolled his eyes and pushed past him. "Pretty sure you're not going to starve, Stevie."

Steve caught Clint's eye and raised an eyebrow in question. Clint ducked a nod at him, then followed Bucky inside.

"Okay," said Bucky once they were out of earshot, "how did you do that?"

Clint just gave him a grin. "Magic."

****

Bucky spent less time obsessing over the media after that. They had a call out that Clint had to stay on base for, playing _Assassin's Quest_ and pretending he was ignoring the screen showing the fight with yet more of Doom's crappy robots.

Having the kind of fight that meant wholesale destruction of the bad guys left Bucky in a much better mood. Steve did the post-fight interview with Rhodey, and they were both able to fend off the questions about Bucky's punch without digging any further holes, which made Erika happy. Or, at least, didn't make her any angrier.

It didn't lay the matter to rest, though. In fact, given that they also asked about his soulmate, Clint was sure the media never shut up about anything, once they'd got their teeth into it.

 _"Doesn't Hawkeye want to share his happiness at finding his soulmate with the world?"_ asked one particularly tenacious reporter.

Steve sent her a glare. _"I'm sure that if he did, he'd have already accidentally let it slip to you guys."_

Clint snorted to himself. That was probably fair. He did kinda have an impulse control problem sometimes. Well, all the time.

When the team got back, Bucky strode into the lounge still in his uniform, hair swept back and a smear of dirt along one cheek. He look so completely fuckable that Clint barely managed to pause his game before he leapt to his feet.

"There's my sexy raccoon," he said, wrapping him up in his arms and giving him a long, deep kiss.

Bucky tried to make a noise of protest, presumably at the nickname, but it didn't take Clint more than a few seconds to completely distract him from any complaints.

"I'm thinking I should check you over thoroughly, make sure you're not injured," Clint said once they'd paused for breath.

"Yep," said Bucky. "Sounds like the best plan. Bedroom."

"What about debrief?" said Rhodey, as Clint dragged Bucky towards their rooms.

"Medical attention is more important," said Clint, sliding a hand down to grope at Bucky's ass.

"Tell Steve I took out a bunch of robots, saved a few civilians, generally kicked ass," said Bucky. "That should be a good enough debrief for him."

His arm was wrapped tightly around Clint's waist, pulling him out of the room. Clint didn't bother resisting at all. As they went, he heard Rhodey give a long-suffering sigh that he was pretty sure he'd developed for use on Tony, and he grinned to himself.

"Stop looking so smug or I'm gonna have to stop and kiss you again," said Bucky.

Clint didn't move so much as a muscle. Bucky let out an exasperated noise and stopped to back him against the wall and kiss him, taking Clint's face in both his hands.

"Yeah, you're gonna have to work on your disincentives," said Clint, running his hands up Bucky's back to settle on his shoulder-blades.

Bucky leaned further into him, one leg pressing between Clint's. "I can think of some other things I'd rather work on."

"If you're going to skip out on debrief, at least get a room," said Natasha, passing by in the direction of Bruce's lab.

Clint pulled away from Bucky long enough to call, "Like we don't know why Bruce has a sofa in his lab!" after her.

Bucky pressed his face into Clint's neck and sniggered, then pulled away. "C'mon, let's get to a bed."

The idea of a bed was pretty much the only thing that Clint was prepared to let go of Bucky in favour of, although he kept tight hold of his hand as they headed to their bedroom.

****

Afterwards, they were lying pressed closed together with Bucky's hand stroking down over Clint's back, and Clint tracing shapes over the skin of Bucky's chest, trying to resist brushing down towards his print.

"I missed you, you know," said Bucky.

"When?" asked Clint, concentrating on drawing out the shape of an arrow down the centre of his chest.

"During the mission," said Bucky. "Felt weird not having you there. I kept expecting arrows to take out the robots I was fighting."

"I'll probably be back for the next time Doom pops up," said Clint, moving on to trace out a bow. A compound bow, because why settle for the simple doodle? "Broken fingers don't take long. I'll make sure to take out every robot you try and engage with, yeah?"

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, great. Looking forward to it." He captured Clint's hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "What I meant to say was, that I kinda get what you were saying the other day. Fighting together is what we do, and I don't want that to change. I guess I'll have to learn to deal with you getting injured."

Clint rolled to brace himself on top of him so he could give him a quick kiss. "And I'll try not to get injured too much," he said.

Bucky snorted as he took hold of Clint's waist. "Don't go making promises you can't keep. It's just a good thing you look good in purple," he said, stroking a finger over one of Clint's bruises.

"Pfff," said Clint, "I look good in everything."

"You certainly look good at the moment," said Bucky, sliding his hands down to cup Clint's ass. "And as the debrief will definitely be over by now, no point in getting up, right?"

"Nope," said Clint, and leaned in to kiss him again.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days later, Tony turned up at the base unannounced with the Secretary for State in tow. There was a mad hustle for everyone to make it to one of the larger meeting rooms in a state fit to be seen by a member of the government. For Clint, that largely involved trying to find some pants that didn't have stains on them. In the end, he had to settle for a pair that only had a small coffee stain on them.

"You're a mess," said Bucky fondly, as he pulled on what Clint had a feeling he thought was his most formal hoodie. Mostly it just looked like all the others.

The Secretary of State, Ross, started out with the usual thanks and appreciation for their work, which Clint did his best to look grateful for while leaving Steve to do all the talking. The best thing about being a back-up Avenger, beyond even being less recognisable, was being able to leave all the political bullshit to others.

"Of course, I do have to acknowledge that you have something of a PR problem at the moment," Ross said, in a tone that meant he was finally getting to the point. "The truth is that the government can't be seen to condone the kind of brutal behaviour that we've seen from the Winter Soldier. We have to be seen to be making sure that a repeat incident is avoided. What steps are you taking to ensure that?"

Bucky twitched and his hands clenched into fists in his lap. Clint stretched out his leg and pressed it against Bucky's, but forced himself to stay still and quiet other than that. However much he wanted to just rip the smug bastard's head off, it was better to let Steve deal with it.

"None," said Steve. "It's not a concern."

Ross fixed him with a look that Clint could have told him wasn't going to intimidate anyone around the table. "It is a concern for the American people, Captain. I've been looking into his file, and I have to say, I'm not sure why you felt he was suitable candidate for this team. Who did you speak to at the Pentagon to confirm his appointment?"

"Why would I need the Pentagon to tell me who to put on my team?" asked Steve. "The Avengers are an independent agency. We make our own decisions on who is a part of the team. The discussion over Bucky's inclusion took place between myself, Black Widow and Maria Hill, who is now Director Fury's deputy."

Ross shook his head. "A decision that affects the whole nation should be made by more than just three people in a room, at least one of whom is heavily biased. If you can't see that, then I think it's time we took steps to curb the maverick nature of this team." He opened his briefcase and set down a stack of papers. "This is a bill that will be introduced to Congress next week. It puts into place a more cohesive command structure and clear guidelines for combat scenarios which should avoid another such incident."

Clint snorted. "You think throwing rules and regs at us is going to do anything other than hinder us?"

Steve picked the bill up and flicked through it. "No use of deadly force unless sanctioned by the committee," he read out, and threw it back down on the table. "Secretary, have you ever been a soldier?"

Ross straightened his back. "I don't see how that is relevant."

"Which is a no," said Steve. "If you had, you're know that you can't wait around for a committee to decide if you can put someone down or not. If Bucky had waited to take that guy out, Clint would be dead right now. The American public would probably have a problem with that as well."

"Not just them," said Natasha in a low, dark voice that made Clint get a warm feeling. Aw, his bestie cared about whether he lived or died. So nice to be appreciated.

"There were plenty of other ways for him to have dealt with the situation in a less brutal manner," insisted Ross. "I've studied the footage, and he could easily-"

"It's easy to look at a situation in hindsight and decide what someone should have done," interrupted Steve. Ross clearly wasn't used to being interrupted if the look of affront he gave Steve was anything to go by. Steve ignored it. "It's much harder when making a snap decision in the heat of the moment. Bucky did what he had to. No one here thinks he made the wrong choice."

Ross's eyes narrowed as he looked around the table, clearly looking for an ally. "Colonel Rhodes?"

Rhodey shrugged. "Someone threatens your team member, you take them out. That's as true in the military as it is here."

"I see," said Ross. "I'm afraid that the government, and the public, don't agree. I understand that you are all rather desensitised to violence, but we can't have someone that the country should be looking up to as an example killing someone with a single punch."

Bucky stirred. "No one should be looking up to me as an example."

Ross fixed him with a glare. "Precisely my point," he said. "I've read your file. Do you even know how many people you've killed?"

Bucky's face was very blank in a way that meant he was either contemplating sudden violence or was about to just get up and walk out. "I know," he said. "Roughly."

"Roughly," repeated Ross, with disbelief. "This is precisely my point! How can we have an Avenger that holds human life so cheaply that they don't even know how many they've killed?"

"If you're talking about when Hydra had their claws in my mind, then I know precisely," said Bucky. "The bit I'm fuzzy on is how many I killed during the war. When I was fighting for the American government. It's hard to be definitive when you're in a firefight with your unit. Things get messy."

"He's right," said Steve. "I know I couldn't give you an accurate figure."

Ross gave him a startled look. "I thought-"

"If you've been buying into the propaganda about Captain America only utilising non-lethal methods," said Steve, interrupting him again, "you need to rethink. I wasn't living in a comic book. War is a brutal, bloody thing, as are many of our missions these days. The reason the Avengers was formed was to take on the kind of threats that others can't. Doing that in a non-lethal manner would be impossible." He put his hand down on the bill. "I think you should know that if this bill gets passed, I'll resign from the Avengers."

"Yeah, me too," said Clint.

"And me," said Sam. "You can't tie our hands and still expect us to do a job."

"I would leave," agreed Wanda. She glanced around. "Would anyone stay?"

There was a notable silence.

Tony let out a long breath. "I reckon if all you guys left, there'd be no point in me continuing as a consultant," he said. "Certainly the Maria Stark Foundation would find other things to do with its money. If the Avengers were completely under government control, the government could fund any clear-up needed."

Ross fixed him with a glare. "This is a ridiculous thing to take a stand on. There needs to be some level of oversight."

"I don't think there does," said Natasha. She'd been quiet so far, which Clint knew meant she was thinking that matter over and making up her mind. "I understand that the public find the nature of our team, and some of the members on it, intimidating, but that's for the good. We are meant to be an intimidating force. If we spend all our time trying to play to the media as a-, a sit-com of lovable characters, then the people that the Avengers were set up to deal with will think we're a joke. That doesn't really provide an incentive for them to rethink their plans."

"It sounds like you either put up with an independent team, or you set up your own," said Tony to Ross. "Or maybe just hire some actors, get a few costumes from a film studio, create your perfect PG world?"

An expression of pure rage took over Ross's face for a split second, then he took a breath and pushed it back. "You are all being extremely short-sighted about this," he said. "You need the support of the American government."

Steve shrugged. "I'm sure we could find another country who'd welcome an elite fighting force. I hear Canada's nice," he added dryly, his eyes flicking to Clint.

Clint ducked his head and glanced sideways at Bucky, but he was still just staring blankly at Ross and didn't seem to have noticed Steve's subtle dig at them.

Ross picked the bill up and tucked it back into his briefcase. "You're making enemies out of people you're going to need," he said, in a vaguely threatening voice. "If the public can't trust in the Avengers, the government will have to take measures."

"I'm pretty sure that if the public find out that those measures would involve the Avengers all resigning and going to Canada, they'll say they're fine with a bit of over-enthusiastic punching of the bad guys," said Tony. He stood up. "You've had your chance to present your case, now let me show you out."

Ross stormed out and Tony followed him, glancing over his shoulder with an eye-roll as he went.

Clint looked over at Steve at the same time as the rest of the team did. Steve gave them all the kind of look that usually came just before a battle. "We won't let politicians and bureaucrats bully us into unwise decisions," he said. "Thanks for your support, everyone."

"Any time," said Rhodey, just as Bucky rose to his feet in a single, sudden movement and strode out.

Clint stood up to follow him, his finger going to his print automatically. Bucky's emotions were a whirl that Clint could barely pick anything solid out of, but the over-riding sensation was one of being overwhelmed. Clint hesitated. Would go after him do anything more than add more pressure right now?

"Bucky!" called Steve, also jumping up to chase after him.

"No," said Clint, with reluctance. "He needs to be alone right now." Sometimes loving someone meant knowing when to give them their space, no matter how hard that was.

Steve looked at him, then glanced down at where Clint was still reading his print and nodded, although he didn't look any happier about it than Clint was. 

"This is ridiculous," said Wanda. "That they think they can hold us hostage over something like this." She fixed her gaze on Clint. "Let him know that we are all with him."

Clint nodded. "Yeah, I'll go find him once he's had a chance to chill."

"Do you think they'll push this?" asked Sam, glancing around at the rest of the team.

Rhodey shook his head. "It's game-playing. They were hoping to scare us into making a compromise."

"Clearly, they don't know Steve very well," said Sam. "Captain America doesn't make compromises."

"You start letting people get away with this stuff, and you spend the rest of your life being taken advantage of," said Steve.

"Hear hear," said Tony, reappearing in the doorway. "We should get that put on your merchandising."

"Has he gone?" asked Wanda.

"Oh yeah," said Tony. "I made damn sure he got off the base without going and sticking his nose into anything we don't want him near."

"You were the one who brought him here," noted Vision.

Tony gave him a look. "Not because I agreed with him. Besides, once I knew what he was going to say, I knew he was only going to get thrown out with a flea in his ear. Which was kinda fun to watch, not gonna lie."

"We need to work out a long-term plan to combat this," said Steve. "They may let this one go, but next time one of us does something that plays badly in the media, it may not be so easy."

Tony nodded. "I've got some plans," he said. "That's why I stuck around." He glanced at Clint. "And to have a chat with you."

Clint blinked up at him. He'd only been half-listening, in between monitoring Bucky's emotional state. "What?"

Tony jerked his head at the door. "Come with me, Hawkeye."

Clint reluctantly stood up. "You realise how creepy you make that sound, right?"

"Yup," said Tony, gesturing towards the door.

"It's called the Stark charm," put in Natasha, which earned her a glare that she just returned with a smile.

****

Tony took Clint into one of the other conference rooms.

"Okay, it's kinda beginning to feel like I'm about to get told off by the principal," said Clint, hopping up to sit on the table.

Tony snorted. "No way am I the principal. That's definitely Steve."

"Yeah, okay," said Clint. "You're, like, the weird science teacher who stays after class to work on his own shit, and occasionally blows stuff up."

Tony snapped his fingers at him. "That's exactly me."

"Then I guess I should start by making it very clear that I'm not gonna be involved in any experiments you've decided are a good idea," said Clint. "I'm meant to be avoiding being blown up at the moment."

"I'm not going to blow you up," said Tony. "Well, okay, rephrase. I don't intend to blow you up."

Clint let out a groan and slumped. He pressed his finger to his print for a moment but Bucky was still sorting through his emotions so there was nowhere else for him to be right now. He might as well hear Tony out and just get ready to say 'no' in a loud, clear voice if things looked like they were going to explode. 

"Okay, what is it then?"

Tony hesitated, then sat down on the table next to Clint. "So, we've got two big media messes at the moment. You realise that this thing with Bucky's fist of fury and the thing with your 'mystery' soulmate are related?"

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Well, kinda, yeah, given that Bucky _is_ my mystery soulmate."

Tony shook his head. "No. Well, yes, but there's more to it. You know as well as I do that if people knew you were soulmates, no one would be questioning his actions. There's a loophole in our legal system for people who are protecting their soulmates for a reason. If your soulmate is hurt, or in danger, it's counted as temporary insanity."

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that," said Clint. "Bucky's not being charged with murder, though. There's no need for us to let out that we're soulmates."

Tony let out a long breath and shook his head. "Okay, you know what? There are too many people around here who are spies, or military, or both. You're all so caught up in keeping secrets just because they're secret. What are you getting out of not telling? Cuz, I don't know if you noticed, but it's not keeping you from getting hurt. Bad guys are going to keep beating you up as long as you're on the team, regardless of who you're making kissy faces with in your spare time. Not to mention that, after that show from Bucky, I'm willing to bet people would think twice before threatening his soulmate."

"Hydra would use it against him," said Clint.

Tony shrugged. "Hydra are going to use whatever they can against him, and be gunning for you anyway, as an Avenger. You think they won't keep coming after the whole team? They're annoying little fuckers like that." He made a face and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not telling you what to do, I'm just saying. Sometimes, in my experience, telling the media a secret is a great way to defuse them when they're on your back."

Clint hated it when Tony said something that made sense because it made him worry he was losing his grip on reality. If anyone could claim to be a media relations expert though, then the guy who was doing photo shoots before he could talk was it. Maybe he had a point on this one.

Clint dipped a nod. "I'll think about it. See what Bucky thinks."

Tony patted his back. "Okay, awesome.” He took a breath and Clint could pretty much see the exact moment he went from serious-business-guy to crazy-party-guy. “Now, how many Air Force guys do you think we can get drunk tonight?"

"All of them," said Clint immediately. "C'mon, how can you doubt that? This is us. We can get any number of military guys hammered."

Tony grinned. “Now that's my kind of talk.” He held out a fist for Clint to bump. “I'm gonna go find my science bro and talk geeky to him first, but getting all the military dudes hammered is a definite go for afterwards.”

“Awesome,” said Clint, hopping off the table. “I'm gonna go dig my soulmate out of his hole.”

“Good luck,” said Tony. “And-” He hesitated. “Look, just think about it, okay? I know he's got no reason to be open with people, but if you blazon all your secrets on a wall, no one's got anything to hold against you.”

“Yeah, not sure this works the same as a playboy sex scandal, but I take your point,” said Clint as he headed out of the room.

He found Bucky in their lounge, lying back on the sofa with his metal arm draped over his eyes as if could block out the world with it.

"How're you feeling?" Clint asked.

Bucky snorted without moving his arm. "You know exactly how I'm feeling."

"Yeah, okay," said Clint, nudging his legs until he moved them enough for Clint to sit down. "I guess what I meant was: how're you dealing with how you're feeling?" He pulled Bucky's legs back up into his lap and circled one ankle with his unsplinted hand.

Bucky shrugged, letting his arm fall so that he was looking at Clint. "Okay, I guess. Just, kinda pissed that this has turned into something that means Steve's getting dragged into defending me. Again."

Clint shrugged. "Steve ends up defending everyone. That's kinda the point of being Captain America." He patted Bucky's knee. "Hey, Tony and I are going to try and get as many military guys drunk as possible. Want to help?"

Bucky groaned. "One of these days you're gonna end up with alcohol poisoning because of Stark."

"Yep," agreed Clint, happily.

"And you realise that I'm a military guy as well, right?" Bucky added.

"Oh yeah," said Clint with satisfaction, grinning. "We're gonna pull out all the vodka. C'mon, I've never seen you drunk."

Bucky sighed. " _No one's_ seen me drunk, not since 1943."

"Definitely time to break that streak, then," said Clint. He poked Bucky's thigh. "Come on, come on, come on, get drunk with me."

"Ugh, fine," said Bucky. "But you've got to protect me from Stark trying to do things to my arm."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Kinky."

Bucky weakly hit at him. "Moron."

****

Drunk Bucky was awesome. Well, okay, any kind of Bucky was awesome, so maybe Clint should have seen that coming, but still. He was awesome.

"You're awesome, man," Clint told him, and got a lopsided grin. He and Bucky were sharing one end of a sofa, pressed close together so that Natasha could fit on the other end without them intruding on her personal space.

Well, okay, so maybe they were really pressed together because they both really enjoyed it, and because last time Clint had been drunk and on this sofa with Bucky, he'd been itching to touch him but hadn't been able to let himself. He was definitely going to make up for that tonight.

"I know," said Bucky, taking another swig from his third vodka bottle. "Hey, hey, Clint. Let's go shoot something."

"No using the firing range while under the influence of alcohol," said Steve, interrupted Tony's on-going rant about how he hadn't been able to find Bruce, and what was the point in having a science bro with an epic lab if he wasn't around to let you play in it, and who the hell hid from Tony anyway? He was _Tony Stark_! Clint had been tuning it out since the second repeat.

Bucky scowled. "You're such a spoilsport, Stevie. How're we meant to know who's the best shot while drunk if we don't give it a try?"

"It'll be me," said Clint with confidence. "C'mon, of course it'll be me. This is only the second time you've been drunk since 1943 but I've had loads of practice shooting drunk. Ask Nat, she knows."

"She knows you got at least three warnings from the police for firing arrows off the roof of the apartment building you lived at in Bed-Stuy," said Natasha. Aw, best friend turned traitor. That hurt.

"Only three?" said Bucky. "Pffft. I'm wanted by police in...uh...fifty-something countries."

"Over-achiever," muttered Clint. 

"Oh, didn't I say? We've got you out of those," said Tony. "Well, okay, we've got you out of most of those. A couple of places are being a bit stubborn, but I've got Legal working on it, don't panic."

"I wasn't," said Bucky. He raised his vodka bottle in a salute. "But, you know. Thanks."

"No problem," said Tony, raising his own glass in response.

Clint nudged Bucky with his elbow. "Hey, hey, if we can't shoot real guns, can we shoot pixillated ones?"

"Yes," said Bucky, sitting up abruptly with enthusiasm, nearly dislodging Clint and then grabbing for his shirt to keep him in place. Clint's drink sloshed out over his arm, but he'd kinda figured that was going to happen at some point anyway. He licked a couple of droplets off his wrist and then downed the tiny bit that was left in his glass.

"I need another drink first," he said. Bucky held out his vodka. Clint shook his head. "Not a super-soldier," he reminded him. "Or a Russian."

Natasha snorted and muttered something in Russian that made Bucky snigger, which...normally Clint would be annoyed at not understanding, but Bucky sniggering was the best thing. He seemed so relaxed and open, especially compared to how he'd been the last time Tony had got them all drunk. Or even how he'd been earlier. Somehow, he'd managed to just push everything he'd been feeling to one side in favour of getting hilariously, enchantingly wasted. It was making Clint want to just grab him and smoosh him and kiss him until neither of them could breath.

Instead, he just collapsed into him, sprawling out over his chest. Bucky put his metal arm around him and gave an effortless heave to pull him properly into his lap. Well, okay, if his face was going to be that close to Clint's, how was Clint meant to resist kissing him? More to the point, _why_ would he?

There was a sigh from somewhere behind them. "And I thought Steve and Sam were bad," said Rhodey.

Clint aimed a middle finger in his direction, but didn't pull away from Bucky. He tasted all vodka-y. Lovely.

"I should start bringing Pepper to these things," said Tony, contemplatively.

There was a gentle tap on Clint's shoulder and he forced himself to pull away from Bucky to find Tony offering him a bottle. That was just about a good enough reason to leave kissing Bucky until later. He held out his glass so that Tony could fill it.

Rhodey put on _Call of Duty_ and handed out controllers, and they played until Clint had drunk enough for the screen to be swimming. Bucky kept him on his lap the whole time, his arms wrapped around Clint's waist to hold his own controller.

"Clint, you've been shooting at a wall for two minutes," said Wanda. "Is that on purpose? Part of some big plan I don't understand?"

"Sassy," said Clint, giving up and dropping his controller. "You're getting sassy. Too much time with- well. With all of us, really."

"I have noticed that you all seem to share the trait," said Vision. "I wonder if perhaps it's one I should adopt."

Tony snorted. "You? You're the sassiest of all, you're just stealth with it. I know your programming, you're all about pretending not to realise that you're being Captain Sassy-Pants."

Sam cleared his throat. "I think you'll find that's Steve."

Tony shook his head. "No, no. Steve can't be captain of everything. He'll just have to accept that he's only, I don't know, Sergeant Sassy-Pants."

"I don't think I'm any rank of sassy," said Steve, which drew scoffing derision from the entire room.

"You've been sassy since I met you," said Bucky, tossing his own controller to one side as the game came to an end. "Never met anyone so tiny and yet so full of sass."

"Good thing you like sass, then," said Steve.

"Yeah," agreed Bucky, tightening his grip on Clint and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I resent the implication," said Clint, relaxing back against him and resting his head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, you look real resentful," said Rhodey. "Are we done playing?"

"I think we're losing hand-eye co-ordination," said Sam. “But, fuck it, I'll go again.”

“God, I really hope there's not a call-out tonight,” said Steve, rubbing a hand over his face. “It'd be just me and you, Vision.”

“I'm sure we'd be equal to the task, Captain,” said Vision. “Perhaps we could ask Fury to lend us a couple of junior agents to make up the short-fall.”

“See?” said Tony, pointing at him. “Sassy!”

“Rhodey, holy shit, did you really just blow yourself up _again_?” asked Sam as an explosion echoed from the screen.

"That's the sign for more booze," announced Tony, jumping to his feet. "And some tunes. Someone who wasn't born in the era of big band put some music on. Or, ooh!" He spun around from the table they'd stacked the bottles on, eyes lighting up, "We could set up karaoke!"

There was a universal groan. Clint threw a pillow at Tony's face that he ducked. "No karaoke," he insisted, as Sam got up and headed over to put on music that would no doubt turn out to be Marvin Gaye. "I don't think I've ever been drunk enough for that shit."

"But you have been drunk enough for-" started Natasha.

Clint pointed a finger at her. "Nope," he said. "No, no, no giving away our secrets, Tasha. We don't speak of that, we made a _pact_."

She shrugged, holding her glass out for Tony as he made his way around the room, topping people up again. "We didn't make it in blood."

Clint gave her a disbelieving look. "What happened to loyalty?" he bemoaned.

She shrugged. "Fine, I'll leave it," she said, then gave a truly evil smile that made Clint instantly fear for his dignity. "I'll save it for my speech at your wedding."

Clint frowned. "What wedding? We're not getting married."

Beneath him, he felt Bucky twitch uncomfortably. Clint turned to frown at him. "You want to get married?"

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe. Not right now, but, you know. Later."

"Huh," said Clint, considering that. "I figured we wouldn't need to cuz, you know. Soulmates. That's a bit more permanent."

Bucky was looking very uncomfortable now and his focus shifted over Clint's shoulder to the rest of the room, who were no doubt staring at them. Maybe this wasn't the best time to be talking about this.

"Not something you get a choice on, though," said Bucky. "Just. I like the idea of getting to announce that I've made, I don't know, an informed decision, or whatever."

Clint thought about that, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. I get that."

Bucky gave him a small smile, and Clint leaned in to kiss it off his face.

"Wait, did you guys just get engaged?" asked Sam.

"Nope," said Bucky. "Just talking. I'll put way more effort into an actual proposal."

"Who said you'll be the one proposing?" said Clint. Bucky just snorted which, rude. Clint could totally be with it enough to make a proposal plan and follow through and not get distracted by something shiny.

"Okay, well, a pre-proposal proposal is still worth celebrating," said Tony. He raised his glass. "To our disgustingly adorable snipers."

"Fuck off," said Clint cheerfully, and tossed his drink back.

Not long after that, Bucky started taking Clint's glass out of his hand every time Tony topped it up and downing it before handing it back. Clint thought he should probably be annoyed by that, but he was too drunk to really work up a good head of outrage, especially not as he was finding the whole thing hilarious.

"Hey, hey, Buck. Bucky," he said, digging his elbow into Bucky's side. "Do you think we can sneak off and pretend we're going to bed, but really go to the range?"

"Not when you announce your plans so loudly," said Steve. "You realise the whole room can hear you, right?"

Natasha muttered something in Russian. Clint glared at her, then turned to Bucky. "What's she say?"

He shrugged. "She said it's high time you learnt Russian."

"Some soulmate you are," muttered Clint. "Leaving me in the dark about the vile things that my so-called best friend says about me behind my back."

"I'm beginning to think Stark's drama is catching," said Bucky. "She just said that your stealth skills are getting progressively worse. Which I think is kinda mean, given I'm not sure you had any to start with."

Clint gasped and clutched at his chest. "Wounded! You've wounded me! I'll have you know I can be stealth as all fuck."

Sam started laughing and Clint turned accusing eyes on him. "Oh, fuck you all," he muttered.

"You're a sweary drunk," noted Bucky. "I kinda like it." He leaned over and kissed Clint, which went pretty far to soothe his ruffled feathers. "And we're not going to the range. You'll end up shooting your own foot or something."

Clint sighed. "I wasn't going to suggest we shoot there," he said, running his hand up Bucky's thigh.

"Need I remind you of the _No Sex In Communal Areas_ rule?" asked Steve.

Bucky snorted. "C'mon, Stevie, like you and Sam haven't violated that rule a bunch of times."

Tony's head swivelled around to stare at Steve, who had gone faintly pink. "Seriously? Captain America, noble upholder of all that is good and decent, has been committing acts of public indecency? Why the hell haven't I heard about this before? Or seen photos? There have to be photos, right? Man, I really did choose the wrong time to stop living with you all."

Clint turned to Bucky as Steve started trying to defend himself, and said, in a much quieter voice than before because he totally could be stealth. "Seriously though, don't you think it would be totally hot to fuck against one of my archery targets?"

"Oh yeah," said Bucky. "Just, not right now. You realise it's gonna be pretty cold outside at this time of night, right?"

Clint stopped and considered that, then slumped. "Yeah, okay. We'll wait for summer to roll around again."

"We'll have to do a week or two at your farm, once the weather's good enough," said Bucky. "I don't know about you, but it feels like there's still a bunch of trees and targets and, I don't know, barns there that we haven't got to yet."

"That's very true," said Clint, leaning in to kiss him again, running his fingers through Bucky's hair to cup the back of his head. He'd reached the stage of drunk where everything was just a pleasant buzz and from the way Bucky was kissing him back, he thought he might be feeling the same.

Oh, oh wait, Clint didn't need to just make an assumption about that. He could read him.

"This soulmates thing is awesome," he told Bucky as he pulled up his sleeve.

"Yeah," agreed Bucky, leaning back and watching with hooded eyes as Clint pressed his print. His emotions were exactly as filled with contentment as he looked, and Clint beamed at him.

"C'mere," said Bucky, holding his hand out. Clint put his arm in it and Bucky circled it with his fingers, then pressed his finger to Clint's print.

A flood of love and affection flowed through Clint and he grinned at Bucky, then relaxed back against him. "Awesome," he said, happily, then patted at Bucky's waist. "Hey, let me-"

Bucky shifted so that Clint could slide his hand up under his shirt to rest his finger over Bucky's print, then let his head fall onto Bucky's shoulder. "So awesome," he said again.

Bucky snorted with amusement, and curled his metal arm around Clint's shoulders. "Yeah," he agreed. "You realise we're turning into Steve and Sam though, right?"

Clint turned to squint at where Sam and Steve were on another sofa, hands locked together so they could link prints. He gave a slow shrug. "There are worse fates."

Bucky's feelings were shifting as Clint's feelings for him flowed through his print, contentment and gratitude swelling along with his affection. There was something else there though, something buried under a couple of layers. Clint picked at it, closing his eyes to focus better on sifting through.

It was sense of want, tinged with something harder to define. Irritation, maybe, or vague awkwardness, aimed at Bucky himself rather than Clint.

"Is there something you're not asking me for?" he asked, opening his eyes and looking at Bucky, who blinked with surprise, then twisted his mouth down.

"Not really," he said, taking his hand off Clint's arm, cutting off the flow of his emotions.

"That's not a no," said Clint, taking his own hand off Bucky's print but leaving it draped around his waist. "C'mon, if there's something you want, you can ask. Even if it's super-kinky, there's not much I won't consider."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "It's not a sex thing, it's just-" He shrugged. "I'm getting drunk with my fella. Used to be, when I did that with one of the dames I knew back in the day, we'd be dancing."

"You want to dance?" asked Clint. "Dude, seriously. Why didn't you just say?"

Bucky just shrugged again. Right, well, Clint wasn't having any of that. He climbed to his feet and held out his hand. "C'mon, hot stuff. Let's cut a rug."

Bucky stood up and took his hand, and they moved over to an open space. They were still on Sam's playlist but they'd moved on from Marvin Gaye to Stevie Wonder. Not what Clint would have picked but he could work with it.

So could Bucky, apparently. It took only a few minutes for Clint to realise that all the talk about Bucky Barnes, ladies man, hadn't just been talk. He clearly had a lot of experience on the dance floor.

"I don't get it," said Clint. "You didn't dance in Chicago at all."

"There was only one person I wanted to dance with, and I wasn't allowed," said Bucky.

"I'm gonna assume you're talking about me," said Clint. "If you're not, don't go destroying my illusions, yeah?"

"Sure thing," said Bucky. "I won't let slip that it was Natasha at all."

Clint took care to step on his toe and just got a snigger for his trouble. Maybe he should invest in steel-toed boots for this kind of situation.

Vision and Wanda had got up and were dancing as well.

"Okay, this feels like a party now," said Tony. "Well, except for the music. Am I the only one who wants to see the Winter Soldier breaking it down to _Rage Against The Machine_?"

"Yes," said Natasha.

"Oh, come on, he'd be a natural for _Killing In The Name_ ," said Tony.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Bucky, "but I'm pretty sure I'd be with Natasha if I did."

"Yeah, you would be," said Clint. "Although, Tony's not wrong. It would be kinda funny. Especially if we got you done up in all your emo raccoon glory."

"Not a raccoon," growled Bucky, and stopped Clint from responding by kissing him, which Clint was totally okay with.

****

When Clint had got to the stage where he was forced to admit he was wasted, Bucky tried to help him back to their bedroom but it didn't go that well because his coordination was kinda shot as well. They bumped their way down the corridors, arms wrapped around each other and unable to stop giggling.

When they fell onto their bed together, Clint had to tug his arm out from underneath Bucky to avoid it being crushed.

"I just found the problem with this both-of-us-get-wasted plan," he said. "We're gonna have to take our own shoes off."

Bucky groaned. "Shoulda got Steve to come help."

Clint pictured Captain America getting them ready for bed and tucking them in, and started sniggering again. A moment later, Bucky joined in. Clint rolled over to drape over him, pressing his face into Bucky's neck.

There was vague movement from Bucky's legs and Clint realised he was trying to kick his boots off. Clint could have told him that wasn't going to work. "Hang on, hang on, let me..." he said, crawling backwards and doing his best not to put his knees anywhere that would make Bucky react badly.

He managed a control fall off the end of the bed so that he was sat on the floor at Bucky's feet. "I got this," he said. "I totally got this. Amazing Hawkeye, right here."

He plucked at the laces and discovered that his fingers didn't work quite the way he remembered and the splint got in the way far more than it had earlier that day. Bucky propped himself up on his elbows to watch, and just laughed at him for a bit. His laughter set Clint's off, until he couldn't concentrate on the laces at all and just fell forward to rest his head against Bucky's knees.

Bucky reached down to ruffle his hand through Clint's hair. "Not going too well, huh?"

"Nope," said Clint. He sat back and took a deep breath. "Gonna get it, though. Or you can lend me a knife and I can cut them off."

"No way," said Bucky. "I'm not fucking my boots up. Give over and let me." He sat up and tried to push Clint aside but Clint stubbornly stayed in place.

"No man, I got this," he insisted. "Just, hold still."

Bucky let out a sigh, but obediently stayed still for long enough for Clint to fumble his laces undone. "Hah!" he crowed, pulling Bucky's boot off. "One down."

"This is gonna take all night," said Bucky.

Clint turned his attention to the other boot. "Not like we have anything else to do," he said. "Well, I haven't. You might have to go out and fight bad guys if there's an alert."

"Nah," said Bucky. "Not tonight. Bad guys can just wait."

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll just stop and wait for you," said Clint, picking apart the other knot. "Seems like the bad guy thing to do, to just pause mid-heist or terror attack or whatever and wait for the Avengers to sleep off their hangovers." The second knot came apart much easier, as if not being caught up in hysterical laughter made it easier or something.

"Hah!" he said, and yanked the boot off. "Done."

He clambered back onto the bed and sprawled out, partially over Bucky. "Your turn."

Bucky groaned. "I can't just sleep?"

"Nope," said Clint. "Or, well, you could, but you'd be sleeping with the guy wearing shoes who might decide to kick you in the middle of the night."

"That seems like a really solid idea; kicking the Winter Soldier awake," said Bucky. "Cuz it's not like I react badly to shit like that at all." He was dragging himself up to bend over Clint's feet as he was speaking though, so Clint let himself relax.

"Ah, you'll be fine," he said, wriggling his shoulders into the mattress. "You'd never hurt me."

There was a pause as Bucky pulled off one of his shoes. "You really mean that," he said after a moment, sounding surprised. "You trust me that much, despite-"

Clint wasn't going to let him finish that. He sat up on his elbows. "Course I do. You're my soulmate. Who else am I gonna trust?"

The look Bucky gave him was more open than Clint was used to seeing from him, then he shook his head and looked back down at Clint's other shoe. "Don't know what I did to deserve you," he muttered.

Clint just snorted. "Now who's being a moron?" he asked. Bucky pulled off his other shoe and Clint poked at his shoulder with his toe. "C'mon, come up here and cuddle me already, would ya?"

Bucky snorted and stood up, taking off his jeans and pulling his shirt off before he climbed back in beside Clint. That seemed like a good idea, so Clint followed suit, wriggling his pants off so he didn't have to stand up and kicking them away, then pulling off his t-shirt so that once Bucky was back on the bed, he could snuggle up against his chest and pull the covers over them.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Clint and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then another to his lips. "Y'know, there are times I want everyone to know how lucky I am," he said. "Wanna shout it from the rooftops. I always thought that was a stupid cliché."

"The whole soulmate thing is stupid clichés," said Clint. "Just, they only look stupid from the outside. Turns out, they're actually awesome." He kissed Bucky in return, running a hand through his hair. "Tony thinks we should be shouting from the rooftops," he remembered.

Bucky pulled back to frown at him. "He thinks we should tell the media who your soulmate is?"

"Yeah," said Clint. "Thinks it'll get the media off both our backs."

Bucky blinked as he processed that. "Ah," he said. "Cuz people are allowed to punch in the skull of someone threatening their soulmate, but if it's just a teammate they should let 'em get shot."

"Basically," said Clint.

Bucky shook his head. "Nah, I'm not putting you at risk just to stop the papers talking shit about me."

Clint shrugged, too warm and comfortable to want to really debate the matter. "He thought it might actually put me at less risk," he said. "Cuz people are gonna be scared to go after the Winter Soldier's soulmate in case their brain gets pounded into mush as well."

"Hydra won't be," said Bucky, as if that were the end of it.

Maybe it was. Clint didn't want to make himself into a target for Hydra, but he also couldn't help thinking that it felt like maybe Bucky was running too scared of them to really weigh up the pros and cons properly.

Now wasn't the time to get into that, though. Clint kissed Bucky again and rested his face in the hollow of Bucky's throat for a moment, then reached up to pull his aids out and put them on the nightstand.

****

The base was rather quiet the next morning. Bucky made it awake long before Clint did and seemed suspiciously bright-eyed when Clint finally made it out to the coffee machine.

He eyed him as the machine worked its magic. "Please tell me you didn't skip the hangover."

Bucky gave him an unrepentant shrug. "Guess the super-soldier thing is good for something."

"Bastard," muttered Clint.

"Guess that means you don't want to come for a run with me and Steve," said Bucky, grinning.

Clint scoffed. "You're kidding, right? Even if I didn't feel like I'd been steamrollered, I still wouldn't be able to keep up with you two."

"All right, see you in a bit then," said Bucky. He gave Clint a quick kiss and left him to the beauty of coffee.

Clint drank two mugs down, then filled a third and took it up to the roof. He settled down in his usual spot and watched as Steve and Bucky went past together. He took the time to properly think through what Tony had said yesterday, about how it would change public perception of Bucky if people knew that he'd been protecting his soulmate when he'd punched that guy rather than just exhibiting a brutally violent side.

Was it worth doing? Would telling the world stop whoever had been paying Barney from making a second attempt? Or was Bucky right that it would just mean that Hydra turned all their attention on Clint, and he ended up in a far worse situation?

There was a sound behind him and he tipped his head back to see Bruce, hands shoved in his pocket. "Um. Morning."

"Hello," said Clint, turning towards him. "Made it out of your lab finally, then? You were missed last night."

Bruce made a facial expression that made it clear he thought Clint was lying. "Maybe by Natasha."

"And Tony," said Clint. "Do you know how much whining about his missing science bro we had to put up with? You should have just come out and talked about quantum radioactive particle robots for a bit."

Bruce did a very slow blink. "I'm assuming you're just stringing what you consider science words together and not actually referencing something Tony wants to build."

Clint waggled his eyebrows. "If you'd come out of hiding last night, you'd already know the answer to that."

"I wasn't _hiding_ ," said Bruce, stepping forward to sit down next to Clint.

"Right," said Clint, sceptically. "That's how come you were in your lab when Tony went to find you. Oh, wait..."

Bruce shook his head. "It's not like that. I just think it's better if I keep out of the way."

"Better for who?" asked Clint. "C'mon, man, we got wasted and ended up dancing like fools. You're telling me you wouldn't have enjoyed that? You could have got Natasha up and dancing, rather than just watching us and making snide comments."

Bruce shook his head. "I definitely don't know about that. I'm not as good as following as you are."

Clint shook his head. "You wouldn't need to be. She'd let you lead."

Bruce was quiet for a minute or two. Bucky and Steve went back past, along the treeline. Clint took another sip as he watched them overtake a handful of Fury's junior agents.

"I suppose I just figured it's better for the team to bond together without outsiders," said Bruce, eventually.

"Oh man, that's a load of horseshit," said Clint. "No way you're an outsider. Trust me, when I retired, Tony and Steve both made it very clear to me that being an Avenger is for life. You can't shake that. You're always gonna be welcome."

Bruce snorted. "I think there's a bit of a difference between your situation and mine," he said, then added, in a quiet voice that was probably meant to be too low for Clint's aids, "You're not a monster."

The best thing about having Tony Stark for a friend, other than the drunken dance parties, was constant tech updates that meant having hearing aids that picked up far more than most people expected.

"Yeah?" said Clint. "Try telling that to the agents who died on the helicarrier the day I attacked it."

Bruce flinched. "Not the same thing," he said, gruffly.

"It pretty much is," said Clint. "You weren't in your right mind when you attacked Johannesburg, same as I wasn't then. Or Bucky wasn't for seventy years of being Hydra's assassin. Or, really, like Natasha when she was working for the Red Room because she didn't know anything outside it."

"It's completely different," insisted Bruce. "It's not my mind being taken over by someone else, it's something within me. Something that wants nothing more to destroy everything. I shouldn't be around people at all; being on base is risky enough."

He sounded pretty despondent. Clint paused to think, watching as Bucky and Steve went past again. He idly pressed his finger to his print to find that Bucky was filled with a fierce competitiveness that meant he was going to keep going until either Steve quit or he collapsed from exhaustion. Not going with them had clearly been a solid decision.

"The way I see it," Clint said, slowly, thinking it through as he spoke because he hadn't realised this was something Bruce was still worrying about, "is that the Hulk, or whatever we're calling the other guy, he wasn't in his right mind either. I mean, sure, back before you joined the team he used to just go off smashing everything, but he hadn't done that in ages. He fought alongside us tons of times, taking out the bad guys and without going after any good guys or civilians. It felt like he was a friend, of sorts. He wouldn't have attacked Johannesburg if Wanda hadn't messed with him."

Bruce shook his head. "He's unstable." He let out a humourless laugh. "We both are."

"No, you're not," said Wanda from behind them.

Bruce jumped and for a moment Clint thought they were about to have a code green, but Bruce kept control enough to just turn around. "Sneaking up on me is a bad idea.”

"She didn't sneak up," said Clint, sipping at his coffee. "She's been there for about three minutes."

"You knew she was there?" asked Bruce as Wanda came forward to join them sitting on the edge of the roof.

"Okay," said Clint, "I know you all think I'm a moron but I actually was a secret agent for years. I can tell when someone is watching."

"You were the only one to manage to avoid me in South Africa," noted Wanda. "You knew I was there then as well."

"Yep," said Clint with satisfaction. "That's cuz I'm the best. Uh, don't tell Nat I said that."

Bruce cleared his throat and started to get up. "I should go back to my lab."

"No," said Wanda. "Wait. I think there's something you should hear first."

Bruce hesitated, then settled back down.

Wanda looked out over the forest. "I am not proud of what I did that day, although at the time I was," she said. "It was a terrible thing, to tear your minds apart like that.”

“We've all done things we regret,” said Bruce.

Wanda shook her head. “I'm not looking for absolution. I'm telling you this so that you won't blame yourself for what was my doing.”

“Oh, now you're the one that trashed Johannesburg,” said Bruce.

Wanda ignored him. “You were the most difficult of the team to manipulate, and the one I wanted to get to the most. I knew you would cause the most damage, if I could just get past all your defences. I know you think you're vulnerable but the mind is a tricky thing. Those who are aware of their vulnerability are the ones that are most protected, because it's that awareness that keeps you alert.”

Bruce shook his head. “I didn't remember it being difficult for you,” he said. “You just- pushed, and the other guy came out.”

Wanda frowned. “It's hard to explain if you don't see minds the way that I do. Most of them are- are like a ball of wool, all jumbled up. You can tie the whole thing in knots if you just find the one right thread to tug on, and the harder you pull, the worse the mess. Your mind, though, is like a see-saw. Push it too far and it snaps over in an instant, but that push took everything I had. As if there were a ten ton weight keeping your end down. That's because you have spent so much time disciplining your mind to keep it in that position.”

Bruce frowned. "It can't be that hard. I manage to flip the see-saw fairly often."

She shook her head. "You make a simple switch, from inside yourself. It's very different from the outside. Besides which, I needed to drive him mad at the same time as bringing him out, and take away all the balance the two of you have spent the last few years achieving.”

She looked down as Steve and Bucky ran past again, Bucky jabbing his elbow into Steve to slow him down. Steve retaliated with a shove to Bucky's shoulder and then doubled his speed.

"His mind would also be difficult to open up," she said, nodding down at Bucky, who was barely a foot-length behind as he and Steve disappeared around the corner again. "He's made it into a steel trap. But you are harder. You are so conscious, at all times, of holding on. You have an enormous force of will."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't think-"

"You are wrong," she interrupted. "Trust me. You have no need to fear instability."

Clint bit his tongue to stop himself from saying, 'I told you so'. They all sat in silence for a few minutes as Bruce seemed to be mulling that over. Steve and Bucky went past again, this time with Bucky slightly ahead, sprinting as if all the hoards of Hydra were behind him. Steve grabbed for his belt and yanked, powering himself forward to overtake. Clint touched his print and confirmed that Bucky was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"I think I'll find Natasha," said Bruce, and stood up.

"She was heading for the gym," said Wanda. Bruce gave her an absent-minded nod and wandered off.

"Thanks for that," said Clint.

"He worries too much," she said. "He thinks we should all fear him."

"If I were going to start fearing Avengers, I wouldn't start with him," said Clint.

"You'd start with me," said Wanda, quietly.

Clint winced, because that had been exactly what he'd been thinking. "Okay, look, that's not-" He let out a long breath. "Ah, screw it. You've just sat here and dissected half the team's minds and I've kinda got a thing about keeping mine intact. Doesn't mean I actually think you'd do anything."

"I know," she said. "And I understand. That's why I don't usually mention how much I sense from people just by being around them. I just thought Bruce needed to hear it."

She sounded sad. Clint thought that having to pretend you didn't know that much about everyone for fear of their reaction was probably pretty draining. "He did," he said, giving her hand a squeeze. "You did good telling him all that."

She nodded, but didn't look much happier. “The more I train myself, the more I sense from people without trying,” she said. “Vision is so much easier to be around. Quieter.”

Steve ran past again, this time without Bucky, and Clint's attention was caught, wondering where he was. A moment later, Bucky dropped from a tree, right onto Steve's back, bearing him to the ground.

"You know," he remarked to Wanda, "I don't think those guys mean the same thing by 'going for a run' as I do."

She watched as Steve and Bucky wrestled on the ground. "No," she agreed. "I suppose they're still getting their cardio, though."

Clint and Wanda came down from the roof in time to make lunch for Bucky and Steve, once they'd finally declared their run a draw and had showers.

"You should join us next time," said Bucky.

"Are you kidding?" asked Clint. "I'm not sure I'd get out alive. Nah, better plan. Next time I'll take my bow up on the roof and have your back. A putty arrow would slow Cap down."

Bucky pointed a finger at him. "Yes, that's a great plan."

"You sure?" asked Steve. "Remember, if we're getting the others involved, then I've got Sam as aerial support."

"I can take him down," said Clint, confidently.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Without hurting him?"

Clint hesitated, running through his various arrows, then nodded. "Yeah, I reckon so."

"I would make sure he landed softly," said Wanda. She sent Clint a wink. "And that he stayed down."

"Is there a reason more people would be on your team?" Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky gave a shrug. "Guess I'm just more loveable."

"Yeah, you are," said Clint, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky seemed in a much better mood than he'd been yesterday and Clint was beginning to hope that maybe this whole thing was just going to blow over. 

Between Bruce and Wanda, Clint's plan to spend some time thinking over what Tony had said was a bit of bust. Maybe he'd let too many people know about his spot on the roof and it was time to find a new hiding place.

Bucky had made his position on it clear, anyway. If Clint couldn't make a decision for himself, he might as well go along with him.

****

Bucky was the one waking up from a nightmare that night. He sat bolt upright which shook Clint out of sleep.

“Okay?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

Bucky glanced down at him, shook his head, and took off for the bathroom. Clint sat up, watching as Bucky flicked the light on but didn't shut the door, throwing cold water over his face. They both had their post-nightmare rituals. Clint liked to pretend nothing was up and get back to sleep as soon as possible. Bucky liked to startle himself awake and ground himself in reality with cold water.

_Go back to sleep,_ Bucky signed at him.

Clint looked at him for a long moment, trying to gauge the severity of the nightmare, then pressed his finger to his mark, which made Bucky roll his eyes.

Bucky's emotions were a mess. Fear was still thrumming through him, strongly enough to kick Clint's heart into overdrive, and there was an aura of self-loathing mixed with it that Clint really hated feeling.

“You're awesome, and I love you,” he said, signing along with his words.

Bucky twitched. _Don't get all-_ he paused, and then had to finger-spell _S-O-P-P-Y._

“I'm not being soppy,” Clint said, making the sign slowly so that Bucky could pick up on it and learn it for next time. “Just saying. Come back to bed.”

Bucky hesitated then nodded, turning the light out as he came back. Clint held his arms out for him and gathered him in close, wishing there was some way he could protect him from all this.

“Hey, wanna go to the farm for a couple of days?” he asked. “I still need to finish the dining room floor.”

Bucky didn't move for a while, then eventually nodded against Clint's shoulder.

Awesome, at least that was some kind of plan. And maybe by the time they got back Steve and Tony and whoever would have done whatever it was they did to make things like Ross's bill and the media scrutiny go away.


	7. Chapter 7

When Natasha called Clint, he and Bucky were mid-way through round eight of the argument that had started within an hour of them landing at the farm.

“If I replaced the kitchen door hinges and did a bunch of other stuff with a broken arm, I can easily work on the dining room floor with just a couple of cracked fingers,” insisted Clint.

“No, you can't,” said Bucky. “Don't be a moron, you're meant to be taking care of yourself. You've got less than a week before the splint comes off, why not just wait?”

Clint let out a frustrated sigh. “Because I want to get on with it now! Who knows-”

His phone ringing cut him off before he could finish. He scowled at Bucky and pulled it out. “Hawkeye,” he answered.

“Clint,” said Natasha. “We're just received notification that Fox News are running a special about us tonight.”

Clint blinked. “O-kay,” he said slowly. “And this is interesting because-”

“It's not going to be a fluff piece,” she said. “In fact, it's going to be pretty bad. I'm sending you a link to the trailer. Looks like they've done a bit of digging. Steve thinks it would be best if you're back here when it airs so we can watch it together, and try and minimise the damage.”

“Okay,” said Clint. “We'll fly back this afternoon. See you then.”

He hung up as the notification that she'd sent him the link came through.

“What's going on?” asked Bucky.

Clint shook his head as he clicked on the link. “Some media drama. Hey, remember when we'd get panicked calls cuz a super-villain was doing something instead of cuz a TV channel being a dick?”

“No,” said Bucky, stepping closer to watch as the video started to play.

Stock footage of the Avengers fighting played while an ominous voice spoke over it. _“They claim to be Earth's Mightiest Heroes, existing to defend us from evil, but what do we really know about The Avengers?”_

The video of Bucky punching through that guy's skull played next, slowed down to make it look truly gory. _“Questions are already being asked about the inclusion of The Winter Soldier, an assassin with a history of brutal violence, but should we be surprised at his inclusion on a team which already includes two other notorious assassins-”_

And, yep, there was Natasha, taking some guy out with a hard kick, and then Clint himself, firing an arrow with a fierce expression that probably meant he'd missed out on coffee before getting dragged to whatever fight he was in.

_“-not to mention a woman whose powers were caused by illegal experimentation by Hydra, a terrorist group that until recently controlled SHIELD, the agency that formed the Avengers Initiative in the first place?”_

The footage of Wanda, wreathed in fire as she screamed something, was rather grainy, as if the cameraman hadn't wanted to get too close.

_“Just how close are Hydra's links with the Avengers now, and what other secrets does this team hide?”_ continued the voice. _“Find out in a brand new special tonight, only on Fox.”_

Clint groaned as the video ended, and turned to bury his face into Bucky's shoulder. “Notorious assassin? Seriously? _Notorious_?”

Bucky stroked his hand over Clint's hair. “I'm sure someone, somewhere, was scared of you,” he said comfortingly.

Clint shook his head. “This isn't going to be good,” he said. “What the hell skeletons do you think they've dragged out of the closet?”

Bucky shrugged. “Do you really think they're going to try and claim a team lead by Captain America would have anything to do with Hydra?” he said. “Cuz, seriously. He's gonna punch them so hard if they do.”

“I reckon he's probably going to end up punching someone anyway,” said Clint, pulling back. “And if he doesn't, then I damn well will.”

“It might not be that bad,” said Bucky, displaying either hopeless optimism or a dizzying amount of naivety. Clint just snorted. Bucky sighed. “Yeah, okay, it's going to be exactly that bad.”

“Come on, let's get our stuff packed so we can fly back and join the worst watchalong party of the year,” said Clint. “Oh, hey, we can grab some popcorn on the way. And beer. All the beer.”

****

They definitely needed the beer. The documentary went through each of them in turn, dredging up all kinds of minor indiscretions and hearsay in order to discredit them. Of course, not all of it was hearsay.

_“The Winter Soldier's full kill record has never been fully published, but from the SHIELD files released onto the internet during the destruction of the Triskelion, a conservative estimate would put his total number of assassinations at between forty-five and fifty, including the deaths of six senators, three heads of state and noted scientist and businessman Howard Stark and his wife. Many of these deaths were not considered murders until the files were released. Who knows how many more deaths he is responsible for over the last seven decades that are still considered natural?”_

“I know,” said Bucky, bleakly. Clint clung tightly to his hand, getting a grip just as hard in response.

_“And he is not the only assassin on the Avengers with a history of such acts. The woman now known as Natasha Romanov also has a chequered history. The bewildering array of cover identities she has used make it difficult to patch the full details together, particular as the name she was born with is still unknown-”_

“Not just to you,” muttered Natasha, then drained her glass. Bruce had been persuaded to come up to the lounge for this and they were sat next to each other. Clint watched him glance at her and then touch the very tips of his fingers to her back. It was the merest hint of comfort, but Clint knew Natasha well enough to know it was as much as she'd tolerate right now.

They ran through a list of her misdeeds before joining SHIELD with more relish than Clint thought was called for, focusing, predictably, on the events in Sao Paulo and the hospital fire in Manila. They didn't seem to know about Ana Drakov, which was good. Natasha had taken a long time to confess that one to him, back when she'd seemed to think that telling him her crimes meant that he'd be able to offer her some sort of atonement.

“This is horrible,” said Sam. “Surely we must be able to sue them for this?”

“They're just speaking the truth,” said Natasha.

Steve clenched his hand into a fist and brought it down on the sofa arm. “I've been on to Legal for hours today,” he said. “Unless they broadcast lies, we can do nothing.”

“They don't need to make up lies,” said Natasha. “It's all a matter of public record.” She poured herself another drink.

_“And then there's the man who brought her into SHIELD and worked as her partner for years,”_ carried on the voiceover, and Clint took a deep breath.

“Okay, here we go,” he muttered. “Hit me with your best shot.”

_“There is no record of Clint Barton having contact with Romanov before he was given the mission to end her blood-stained career, with lethal force if necessary, but it seems unlikely that he would have chosen to bring her in from the cold, or that she would have trusted him enough to shift her allegiances, without a shared past.”_

“Hah!” said Clint. “Conjecture. Those guys clearly have no idea the persuasiveness of the Barton charm.”

Natasha snorted. “I don't remember charm having anything to do with it.”

_“But then,”_ continued the documentary, _“there are very few records of Barton before his career with SHIELD. As a boy, Barton escaped from a children's home and joined a circus notorious for its criminal activities.”_

“There's that word again,” noted Clint. “Notorious.”

“I do not think it means what they think it means,” said Bucky, which, yes, yes, there was always a place for a _Princess Bride_ reference. Clint had to reward him with a kiss before he tuned back in.

_“Barton stayed with them long enough to learn archery and other, less legal skills, and then struck out on his own. There follows a period of several years during which even SHIELD's files contained holes on his whereabouts. What we do know is that there were a number of robberies and assassinations in Europe during that time period, crimes committed with a bow -a very distinctive choice of weapon- and which still remain unsolved to this day.”_

Clint groaned. “Oh, come on! I'm not the only archer on the planet.”

“Those crimes,” said Steve, slowly. “They were Barney? Your brother?”

Clint shrugged. “Probably,” he admitted. “I know he was making a name for himself in Europe around that time. Of course, if anyone had bothered to check, they'd have noticed that they didn't stop when I joined SHIELD, but...” he shrugged.

“I don't think accuracy is their priority,” noted Rhodey.

_“Barton was recruited into SHIELD and worked his way up the ranks to become one of their top agents, being sent on a number of sensitive missions, many of which may have violated international law.”_

“ _May have_ ,” repeated Clint. Natasha sent him a look and he sighed. “Okay, fine, so some of them definitely did, but that wasn't exactly my decision. They need to have a go at my handlers for that, not me.”

_“During this time, he worked with several agents who were later revealed to be Hydra spies,”_ continued the documentary, and a series of portraits flicked across the screen including, to Clint's great indignation, one of Rumlow.

“He tried to kill me,” he pointed out. “At least twice. He shot my bow!”

Bucky put his arm around Clint's shoulders. “I killed him,” he reminded Clint.

“Yeah,” agreed Clint, crossing his arms and relaxing into the curve of Bucky's body. “It was awesome.”

_“And although Barton was clearly seen fighting alongside the Avengers during the Battle of New York, there is witness testimony that he was seen working with the Asgardian terrorist Loki before then. Two of the guards who were killed during Loki's attack in Stuttgart were killed with arrows.”_

Clint found his jaw clenched so hard that he could feel his teeth grinding together. He forced himself to relax it. He could remember killing those guards so clearly still, setting the arrows to his bow and firing without even once considering the men as anything other than pawns in the way of Loki's grand plan.

_“With such a confused past, how can we be sure where Barton's loyalties lie? He was oddly absent during the destruction of the Triskelion and the eradication of the Hydra elements at work within SHIELD. Questions have been raised as to his value on the team, as an ordinary man without superpowers or special equipment, who fights with weaponry that seems archaic in a world of high-tech armoured suits and magical powers. Is it possible that he holds some dark secret that secures his place there?”_

Clint blinked. “Did- did they just suggest I'm blackmailing Captain America?”

“Essentially,” said Natasha.

“It's okay,” said Rhodey. “We all know you're part of the team for more than just your ordinariness or archaic weaponry. I mean, someone has to make the coffee, right?”

“Fuck you,” said Clint.

“Let's be honest,” said Steve. “If you were blackmailing me, you'd be getting me to bring you pizza every day.”

After that was a commercial break, during which they all topped their glasses up and debated just going down to the TV station and ending the broadcast with a well-timed explosion.

“Or we could ask Tony,” said Rhodey. “I bet he can shut it down with just the press of a button.”

“He's almost certainly got his finger hovering over that button right now,” said Natasha. “Pepper will be stopping him from pressing it, though.”

“Oh god, it's starting again,” said Wanda. “And it seems it's my turn.”

The section about Wanda was pretty predictable. There was the usual concern about her past with Hydra and Ultron, followed up with vaguely ominous warnings about the level of control she had over her powers. About the only thing that was new was a couple of bits of old Sokovian news footage of her and Pietro at a protest and claims that she was anti-establishment.

“If the establishment is as corrupt as the Sokovian government, then I suppose I am,” she said.

“It's cool,” said Clint. “Nothing corrupt about the American government at all. Not even a little bit.”

“That has to be the worst of it, surely?” said Steve. “What can they have to say about the rest of the team?”

“Depends on if they decide to include historical members,” said Bruce, heavily.

“Yeah, they could fill three or four documentaries with the shit Tony's got in his past,” said Rhodey blandly, earning himself a glance from Bruce that he pretended not to see.

The next shot was of Vision. He frowned at the footage of him hovering above a fight, cloak rippling out behind him. “I don't understand. I've committed no criminal acts and my past is hardly long enough for them to spin any lies out of it.”

_“The android known as Vision has origins that have never been fully explained. What is known is that Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, also known as The Hulk,”_

“We're different people,” muttered Bruce.

_“-were involved, and that he was created about the same time as another android who came from their laboratories.”_

Ultron flashed up on screen and the whole room groaned. “Oh, come _on_ ,” said Clint. “I mean, I know I'm being held responsible for my brother's crimes, but that doesn't mean we all have to be.”

Vision frowned. “Would you say Ultron was my brother?” He considered the matter. “I suppose, in human terms, that would be a simplification for the relationship, but I felt no real kinship for him.”

_“Within a few short days of being in existence, Ultron caused a major disaster, hundreds of deaths, and almost brought about the entire destruction of the earth. Given sufficient motivation, does Vision have powers equal to his and, if so, just what might that motivation be? How close are we to a genocide caused by faulty programming?”_

Vision made a strange noise and Clint glanced over to see him staring at the screen. “Faulty programming? Do they compare me to a mere computer?”

Wanda took his hand. “They're idiots.”

“Clearly,” muttered Vision.

“You know, I can't decide if I like them picking on all of us equally more or less than I did when they were just going on about Bucky all the time,” said Steve.

“I've got to wonder what the rest of the country thinks of it,” said Sam. “I mean, going after all of us begins to smack a bit of sour grapes. Sorry you're not on an awesome team of heroes, guys, maybe you should have spent years of your life training to be the best instead of making mean-spirited documentaries.”

Naturally, his was the next face that came up on screen, and he groaned. “Oh man, what the hell can they have against me?”

_“On paper, Sam Wilson is the perfect soldier,”_ said the narrator.

“Not just on paper,” said Steve, and earned himself a kiss from Sam.

_“He enrolled in the US Airforce as a young man and excelled within the service, operating as a Pararescueman and taking part in several high-profile, successful missions. He was recruited to become one of only two test pilots of the Exo-7 Falcon jet pack, the same equipment he uses today in the service of the Avengers.”_

“Why are they only saying nice things about you?” said Clint. “Come on, it's not fair unless we all get a kicking.”

_“However,”_ started the narrator, and Clint cheered.

“Okay, here we go.”

_“During his teenage years, Wilson was less highly regarded. His teachers talk of a boy with unrealised potential who had a habit of playing truant, and there are signs of a growing criminality in his police file.”_

“There's what now?” asked Rhodey, turning to give Sam a raised eyebrow. Sam just groaned and buried his head in his hands.

_“At the age of 17, Wilson was arrested for possession of drugs-”_

“I had one spliff on me!” protested Sam. “Come on!”

_“-although he was let off with a warning. A year later he was again in trouble with the police, for driving under the influence.”_

Natasha tutted. “I had no idea you were such a hardened criminal. Drugs _and_ alcohol, I'm shocked.”

“I'm disgusted,” agreed Clint. “How can we have been so deceived in him?”

“Steve, I'm not sure I can let you hang out with that kind of guy,” added Bucky. “He'll lead you down bad paths, man.”

“Apparently, you all will,” said Steve.

The TV screen flickered to show a mugshot of Sam as a teenager, staring sulkily at the camera and rocking a truly terrible haircut. The whole room cracked up.

“Oh man, this is so much better than them droning on about all the guys the rest of us have assassinated,” said Clint, gasping for breath between laughter. “At least I never committed a crime against style with a haircut that bad.”

“I hate you all,” said Sam, crossing his arms.

The narrator was still talking. _“Wilson's story may be a familiar story of a delinquent kid joining up and mending his ways in the discipline of the forces, but how can we be sure that his old ways won't return without that discipline? By all accounts, the Avengers Initiative has a far more laid-back approach.”_

“Ah, I see, without orders and forced marches, I'm just gonna slip into being a criminal,” said Sam. “Guess we're ignoring the fact that I was out of the Air Force for a good couple of years in DC, and somehow managed to avoid becoming a crime kingpin.”

“Being a counsellor at the VA is definitely not part of the narrative they're selling here,” said Rhodey. His head swivelled back to the screen as the narrator said his name and he took a deep breath. “Oh man, come on, what the hell have you dug up on me?”

_“Colonel James Rhodes has had a career that has been chequered by his association with Tony Stark,”_ said the narrator.

“Ah,” said Rhodey. “Yeah, okay, I get this. Hanging out with Tony shows a serious lack of good judgement.”

_“We have uncovered records of criminal charges of drunken and disorderly behaviour, causing a public nuisance and resisting arrest from his time at college, when he began associating with Stark.”_

“Oh hey, check it out,” said Sam. “Who knew that Fox would decide the two black guys on the team are petty criminals?”

Rhodes raised his glass in his direction. “Guess we're both delinquent teens.”

Clint snorted. “It's guys like you that give guys who were actually delinquent teens a bad name,” he said. “I mean, I had to work hard for that title, not just get drunk a couple of times.”

The narrator continued as a clip of Rhodey in uniform addressing a press conference came up. _“These charges were all dropped after intervention from the Stark family lawyers, starting a pattern that continued into his military career. Several of his superiors have reported incidents of insubordination relating to his liaison work with Stark Industries and the acquisition of the Iron Man technology-”_

“Oh, no,” said Rhodes, sitting up. “I mean, okay, maybe I didn't bend over backwards to stab my friend in the back as much as high command wanted, but there was no insubordination.”

_“-although these incidents usually took place in a non-official capacity, which has kept Rhodes from court-martial.”_

“What the hell does that even mean?” said Rhodey.

“Means you're a bad person,” said Natasha. “I mean, I may have been in an international assassin, but no one ever accused me of non-official insubordination.”

_“Colonel Rhodes was also involved in the incident at Tony Stark's infamous birthday party that led to the near destruction of the Stark mansion. Guests at the party have given reports of a high-powered fight that started when Rhodes appeared to lose his temper. Do we really want a man with that little grip on his temper in a position where he could destroy so much more than just a house?”_

Bruce cleared his throat. “It sounds pretty mild to me, actually.”

The documentary went to commercial again and Clint leaned his head back with a sigh. “Oh man, please tell me this is nearly over.”

Steve shrugged. “Seems like they've just got me to go.”

“That should be fun,” said Sam. “Fox News trying to tear holes in the guy they usually hold up as the ultimate shining symbol of honour and patriotism.”

They were all trying to act light-hearted about it but the atmosphere in the room was pretty glum. Tony called during the break to bitch about how it was, "All such fucking bullshit!" but even he had to admit that there wasn't anything they could really sue about.

"And that would probably only make things worse anyway," he said. "Dragging everyone's pasts out in open court; nope, not good."

"Oh god, it's starting again," said Wanda. Tony rang off and they all braced themselves.

_"So far, we've revealed the extent to which the individual members of the Avengers may not have the best interests of the American people at heart. But what of the organisation itself? Since the fall of SHIELD, an agency that was riddled with terrorist elements, the Avengers has claimed to be independent, but where do the enormous costs of housing and equipping this team come from? The government provides them with an annual stipend, but the majority of the costs are covered by Tony Stark's global business empire. Should a government agency really be so clearly sponsored by corporate interests? Hammer Industries, a key business rival of Stark Industries, have complained of being targeted by the group more than once."_

"Oh, they've skipped Cap to go after Tony," said Rhodey. "I guess he's an easier target."

"I can't tell if I'm disappointed or relieved," said Steve. "Wait, no. It's relieved."

"Well, even Fox News wouldn't talk smack about a guy who punched Hitler in the face," said Clint which, of course, was when footage of Steve came up on-screen.

_"So, who really does have control over this team of dangerous misfits? Is it Stark Industries and their corporate interests? Is it the terrorist group Hydra, whom so many of the team have links with?"_

"By 'links with', he means 'want to punch in the face', right?" said Clint.

_"Officially, the team follow the directions of Captain America. Steve Rogers' reputation is beyond reproach as an American patriot and a defender of freedom."_

"Damn straight," said Sam.

"What for it, there's a 'but' coming," said Wanda.

_"However,"_ said the narrator, and she nodded.

"Told you."

_"He has only been part of the modern world for five years, and critics are asking if that's long enough to readjust to the complex politics of today's society."_

"Oh yeah," muttered Steve. "Nothing complex about the politics leading up to the Second World War at all. Nope."

_"A former member of SHIELD came forward to talk about Captain America's leadership,"_ said the narrator. The video changed to show a darkened room and a shadowy silhouette.

_"Rogers is great on the battlefield, but he's out-of-his-depth off it," the figure said. "We used to have to explain things to him almost all the time, simple stuff that we all take for granted about computers and technology, but also about the way society works now. That kind of naivety is dangerous in a commander."_

Steve let out a long sigh. "So, this guy knew me for about five minutes after I woke up, then."

_"He also tended to rely heavily on the people close to him for advice. It's no secret that Tony Stark can talk him into anything, and even before Black Widow was officially his second-in-command, she had a lot of influence over command decisions."_

"You know, I think I'd rather they were painting me as secretly evil than incompetent," said Steve.

"It's idiotic either way," said Sam. "No one's going to believe a word of this."

The narrator was starting to wrap up, which involved going back over every black mark against them while a lot of very dramatic graphics filled up the screen, detailing just how many of them were criminals and terrorists or in the thrall of criminals and terrorists.

"They will, though," said Natasha. "People always want to believe the worst of their heroes. They put them on a pedestal and then they knock it down."

"And there's the Russian optimism we love so much," said Clint. He dug an elbow into Bucky's side. "Bet you're missing being an anonymous whisper in the dark right now."

Bucky blinked and turned to face him, and Clint realised he hadn't been paying any attention to the conversation at all. He looked pretty pale, and there was a hard look in his eye that Clint didn't like the look of.

"I have to-" he said, and then got up and strode out of the room, his head down and his shoulders hunched over.

"Aw man," said Clint, his finger going for his print. The over-whelming emotion Bucky was feeling was self-recrimination, followed by guilt. Ah crap. "He's blaming himself for this," said Clint, starting to get up.

Steve shook his head, standing up himself. "Leave him to me," he said. "He's forgotten what being on a team means. I'll remind him."

He followed Bucky out and Clint let out a sigh, settling back down. "This really fucking sucks," he said, with feeling.

"You said it," said Rhodey, standing up. "Want another beer?"

"God, yes," said Clint.

They drank until Steve came back and announced that Erika was coming out for an emergency meeting the next morning.

"No need for you all to look miserable," he said. "It's only going to be her, Nat and myself."

"Yeah, but it's what she's going to decide we need to do to pull this back," said Rhodey. "How many more babies are we gonna need to kiss?"

"How's Bucky?" asked Clint.

Steve gave him a shrug. "I think I helped, but he seems pretty set on thinking we wouldn't be dealing with this if he'd had more control. He's in your lounge."

Clint stood up. "I'll go point out to him that, whatever else you can say about it, that documentary was balanced between all of us."

"This was always going to come," said Natasha. "Sooner or later. Ross was right about that, at least."

Clint nodded and left, feeling a heavy weight settle into the base of his stomach. Put him up against any kind of armed opponent and he knew what to do, but this slow chipping away at their reputations was completely out of his experience. How was he meant to fight back against the tide of public opinion?

He really should have actually spent some time thinking about what Tony had said, rather than just trying to bury his head in the sand hoping it would all blow over. Maybe if he talked to Bucky about it again, tried to talk him around.

Bucky was sharpening his knives when Clint got into their lounge, which was a pretty clear sign he was in a bad mood. "Don't bother giving me the talk," he said. "Steve already got there."

Clint eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Instead, he went and got his knives and settled down next to Bucky to sharpen them. They worked in silence together and gradually the atmosphere became less thick and brooding. When Bucky had finished his final knife, he set it down and relaxed back against the sofa with a sigh.

"This is such bullshit," he said.

"Yeah," agreed Clint. "Want to play _Call of Duty_ and pretend it's not happening?"

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Let's try denial for a bit."

****

The next morning, Clint woke up before Bucky as daylight was only just beginning to shine through the window. He lay still for a long time, watching Bucky sleep and thinking about which sacrifices were worth making.

If he followed Tony's advice, he was painting a massive target for Hydra on himself. Just because they were beaten down right now didn't meant they wouldn't rebuild and when they did, they were going to come for Bucky again. If they knew they could get to him through Clint, then that was exactly where they'd start.

But then, if they were coming for Bucky, Clint was gonna be standing in their way anyway, whether or not they knew why. And right now, they weren't the ones coming for them; Fox News and Ross and all those small-minded bastards who liked stirring up trouble were. If Clint could take the wind out of their sails by putting Bucky's punch into the context of a guy protecting his soulmate and add in the kind of sentimental human interest story that Erika always wanted them to go for, they might drum up enough good will for this storm to pass over.

Bucky shifted and a frown crossed his face, then his eyes flickered open.

"Morning," said Clint.

The frown faded off Bucky's face. _Good morning_ , he signed back.

Clint bent down and kissed him, then pulled back to look at him, leaving his hand cupping Bucky's face so that he could rub his thumb over Bucky's cheek. "Can we talk?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows. _Is it about your notorious criminal past?_ he signed, having to finger-spell 'notorious'.

"Nope," said Clint. He bought himself some time by grabbing his aids off the nightstand and tucking them into his ears, then bit the bullet and just went for it. "It's just, and I hope you know how much I hate saying this, I think Tony was right."

Bucky sat up. “About telling the media about us?”

Clint nodded. “If we give them something else to focus on-”

“No,” said Bucky. “Absolutely not. I don't give two shits if they do a 24/7 marathon of all the worst things I've ever done, I am not putting you in danger.”

“I'm already in danger,” said Clint. “I'm on the team, aren't I?”

Bucky shook his head. “It's different,” he insisted. “You don't understand just how far Hydra would go. What if they didn't just hurt you? What if they decided to put you in the chair too and have two brainwashed assassins? No, hell no, we're not telling anyone.”

Clint couldn't stop himself shuddering at the thought of being put through that, but stuck to his guns. “What are the chances of that, though? We already-”

“No!” insisted Bucky, not letting him finish. He pulled himself out of bed in a rush. “Any chance at all is too much chance. I won't let them touch you, Clint, and the only way to guarantee that is to make sure they never find out about you.” He disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door behind himself without giving Clint a chance to say anything else.

Right, okay, so now they weren't even going to discuss this. Clint got out of bed and threw on some pants. “Let me know when you're done letting fear make your decisions and want to talk about this like rational adults!” he shouted through the bathroom door, then headed off to the gym to punch stuff until he'd calmed down.

They didn't end up talking about it like rational adults. Clint went for coffee after the gym and found Bucky already in the kitchen, hunched over a mug and glaring at the table. He looked up at Clint and his expression didn't change.

“You done hiding from this?” Clint asked him.

“I'm not _hiding_ ,” Bucky snapped. “I've just said all I've got to say. We ain't doing it.”

Clint felt his hands clench into fists. “Oh, you're just going to make all the decisions then? I thought I was getting a soulmate, not a handler.”

“Maybe you need a handler!” snapped Bucky. “If we left it up to you, you'd just jump off a roof into a fight you haven't got a hope of winning.”

Clint actually felt himself flinch back from that. Bucky knew exactly how much he hated being made to feel weak. “Oh yeah, much better to just cower away in a corner,” he snapped. “For fuck's sake, Bucky, I'm not a kid, I'm a member of this god-damn team-”

“You shouldn't be,” shot back Bucky before Clint could even finish. “You were retiring, remember?”

“Fuck you,” said Clint, bitterly. “So, what? I'm not a super-soldier so I have to sit back and let other people make my decisions? Fuck that shit. You know that this makes sense – or you would, if you'd sit down and think rationally rather than just blindly giving in to your emotions.”

Bucky stood up, scrapping the chair back on the floor. “My emotions that Hydra stripped away from me, you mean?” he asked. “They took everything, Clint, I ain't letting them have you.”

Clint shook his head with frustration. “They won't,” he said. “Look around you. There's no way anyone here would let that happen.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh, like you all said there was no way you'd let Hydra get me back, and then I ended up shooting Sam?”

Clint recoiled. Bucky had never once given a sign that he blamed anyone on the team for Hydra kidnapping him, not even when half the team had been eaten up with self-recrimination.

Bucky's face twitched as if he realised he'd gone too far, then he shook his head. “This is pointless. I'm not changing my mind,” he said, and strode out of the kitchen.

Clint let him go. Between the retirement crack and being made to feel like an incompetent who had to let others make the decisions, he wasn't exactly in the kind of mood to continue the discussion.

Natasha found him an hour or two later, perched up on the rafters that he'd spent a lot less time on lately, because there was only room for one person at a time on them. Right now, space for one person was all he was interested in.

Natasha stood beneath him and looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” spat out Clint.

“Thank god,” she said. “Come down, then. We need to talk to the whole team.”

Clint stayed where he was. “If it's about this media thing, I don't give a shit.”

She sighed. “Childish, Barton.”

“Yeah, that seems to be the consensus,” said Clint.

She rolled her eyes. “In the lounge. Ten minutes,” she said, and walked away.

Clint stayed where he was for eight minutes, then admitted to himself that he was being petty and climbed down.

Everyone else was already in the lounge, including Bucky. He was leaning against a wall with his arms folded, glaring at everyone. When Clint walked in, he looked up, then back down at the carpet as if he couldn't bear to look at him.

Clint was suddenly, abruptly done. “Okay, you know what?” he said. “Nat, text me if there's anything important. I'm heading back to the farm.”

Bucky looked up at that. “No.”

Clint glared at him. “ _Yes_. You don't get make all my choices for me. Hell, you shouldn't be making any of my choices for me, but I don't seem to be getting far with that one.”

“Clint,” said Steve, slowly, looking between them. “Now isn't really a good time for-”

Clint shook his head. “Nope, it's the best time. I don't know the first thing about media strategies and I've got another four days before my splints come off so I can't even fight.” He took a step backwards, away from Bucky, who hadn't moved. “I'll see you all in a bit,” he said, turned on his heel, and got the fuck out of there before he grabbed Bucky's shirt and shook him until he started listening to reason.

Bucky caught up with him at the quinjet pad.

"Are you really going to run off to sulk just cuz I won't do what you want?" he asked, grabbing Clint's shoulder and turning him away from the quinjet Clint was loading.

Clint shook him off. "Nope," he said. "I'm going down to my farm to have a couple of days so I don't lose my shit over being treated like a kid."

"Wanting to make sure you don't get hurt is not treating you like a kid," said Bucky.

"No, okay," said Clint. "But not being willing to have a proper discussion about it, and just getting up and leaving the room every time I try to have one _is_ , not to mention this whole 'I need to protect you from everything because you can't be trusted with your own safety' thing."

"So I'm not meant to want to make sure my soulmate doesn't get torn apart by the neo-Nazis who are gunning me?" asked Bucky. "For fuck's sake, Clint, you don't have the first idea how bad it could-"

Clint lost it. "Of course I do!" he exploded. "Jesus Christ, Bucky, I'm not some naive kid! I know exactly what these groups are like, I've been infiltrating and spying on and fighting them for over a decade! What the fuck do you think a SHIELD agent does? Not to mention an Avenger! Knowing that doesn't mean I'm going to run scared, though. I did actually think about this before making a decision, you know."

Bucky ran his hand through his hair with exasperation. "How can you say that you know what they're like and still think that it's worth the risk of them coming after you just to avoid a bit of bad press?"

"Because it's not just bad press," said Clint. "It's the look you get when there's another crappy article about you, it's the threat of this stupid Bill, it's not being able to protect you or get too close to you in public. It's getting to dance with you at receptions or go out for hotdogs or drag you along to shitty plays by deaf kids without having to have a cover. I think we should be able to live our lives the way we want them to be without letting fucking Hydra dictate what we do."

For a moment, Bucky hesitated and Clint thought he'd got through to him, then he shook his head. "Letting Hydra dictate to you is what happens once you come out of their chair," he said. "Taking sensible precautions doesn't come close."

Clint clenched his hands into fists, then made himself take a deep breath and let it out. "Okay," he said. "Seems like we're not getting anywhere on this one right now."

"This is why I didn't see the point in talking about it," muttered Bucky, his shoulders hunching over.

Clint shook his head. "No, it's always better to talk about these things. Make sure we both know where the other stands."

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, you're standing on the side of reckless stupidity."

Clint took a deep breath and stepped back, towards the quinjet. "And you're on the side of living in fear," he shot back.

Bucky shook his head. "Fine, whatever. Fuck off to your farm."

"Enjoy cowering under the bed," snapped Clint, and got on the quinjet, slamming the door behind himself as well as he could. Quinjet doors weren't really designed for dramatic exits.

****

Clint ignored his phone until he'd been at the farm for a couple of hours and had calmed down a bit. When he did, the only text waiting for him was from Natasha.

_This thing where you run away from your problems is incredibly unproductive. Also, Fury wanted me to point out that quinjets aren't intended for personal use, and he'd like it back as soon as possible._

Clint deleted it without replying, glancing out at where the quinjet was sitting in his field, sticking out like a sore thumb. Eh, Fury could wait. He had plenty of other quinjets; a few days without one wouldn't hurt him.

He tried to work on the dining room floor, but he wasn't able to settle down to it properly with all the emotions still churning in his chest. Plus, it turned out that trying to do DIY with splints on really wasn't a good idea. Fuck it. Fuck Bucky, fuck the media, fuck fucking Hydra, fuck them all. He abandoned his tools, realised he couldn't even go to the range and shoot until his head was clear, and decided to go for a run instead.

He ran until his legs ached, but it didn't seem to do much to cut through the frustration of having this unresolved argument hanging over him. Maybe Natasha was right and he should have stayed and had it out properly with Bucky, but Clint couldn't help feeling that one of them would have ended up saying something they'd have regretted.

Well, something worse than what they already said.

The sun was going down, so he gave up and went back inside. He found the fixings for mac 'n' cheese and settled down with it in front of Disney's _Robin Hood_ , because sometimes you just needed to wallow in the comfort of your childhood.

Natasha texted again just as Clint was debating the merits of Kevin Costner versus Errol Flynn in terms of comfort viewing.

_Media strategy has been settled on as more of the same, as no one could come up with any bright ideas to make the public love us. Or, at least, no one was able to agree on one._

_Bucky has spent the day sulking at the range, by the way. I imagine you've done the same._

Clint deleted those two as well, but he wasn't able to push aside the mental image of Bucky glowering at the target as he shot off round after round. Clint had been carefully avoiding his print all day, but the thought of it made his finger itch and he couldn't help giving in.

He pressed his finger carefully against his print and Bucky's emotions opened up in the back of his mind. He felt like even more of a mess than Clint, anger and indignation all mixed up with frustration and a steady surge of fear buried underneath it all. It felt like he hated this as much as Clint did, but Clint could feel he was also just as set on not giving in.

Clint allowed himself to indulge in feeling Bucky's emotions for a moment. He was already missing him, which seemed ridiculous given he had only seen him that morning and if he did see him now, they'd probably only argue again.

Fuck it, he was going to put on Errol Flynn. If he couldn't have the guy from the '30s that he wanted, he'd just have to settle for another. He got himself a beer first, then turned the subtitles on and pulled out his aids so he could just kick back and ignore the world for a bit.

He ended up falling asleep there, which he probably could have guessed he would. He woke up at 3am to find the TV showing an infomercial, his beer bottle knocked over on the floor and a text waiting from Bucky.

_It's not that I don't think you can protect yourself, it's that I don't want you to have to. This is my fight._

Clint rubbed at his face, wondering if he was awake enough to reply without just making a bigger mess. He ran his finger over his print to find that Bucky was awake and riding out what felt like the tail-end of the kind of panic and fear Clint associated with nightmares.

He grabbed his aids and pushed them back in, then called Bucky, but he didn't pick up. Great.

_Your fights are my fights,_ he sent instead. _Even the middle of the night ones. I'm awake if you want to talk._

He pressed his finger to his print and waited. It took a minute or two before a thread of affection unspooled through Bucky's emotions, tamping down his panic. A moment later, the phone rang.

"Do I wanna know why you're not asleep?" asked Bucky without bothering with a greeting.

"Nodded off on the sofa," said Clint, without shame. "You gonna tell me why you're not?"

Bucky was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I dreamt about it again," he said, quietly. "Them getting you and putting you in the chair, making you into their puppet. There was nothing left of you."

There was a bleak note in his voice that made Clint want to be there with him so that he could wrap him up in a hug and reassure him that Clint wasn't going anywhere. _I dreamt about it again_. Christ, Clint hadn't known it was something that had ever come up in Bucky's nightmares. He'd assumed they were all just about Hydra getting hold of Bucky himself, or rehashed bad memories.

If that was what Bucky dreamed about, no wonder he was running scared. Most of Clint's nightmares were focused just on him, but the occasional one where Bucky was in trouble was always so much worse than any of the others.

"I'm right here," he said, feeling useless with the phone line separating them. "Still me. They're never gonna do that to me."

Bucky took a deep breath. "Yeah, I know. I know, just- It feels so real."

"Nightmares are the worst," said Clint, with feeling.

"When I was a kid I used to dream about giant spiders," said Bucky. "Man, I never thought I'd miss that."

"Giant spiders?" repeated Clint, then sniggered. "I have got to tell Natasha that."

"They were the size of cars," said Bucky. "Ugh. Still, better than fucking Hydra."

"Thank god Hydra stuck to brainwashing and not genetically engineering giant fighting spiders," said Clint. "Hey, we haven't watched the Harry Potter films yet, have we?"

"Harry Potter," said Bucky, slowly. "No, but I'm guessing from the conversation, I maybe wouldn't want to."

"Nah, you'll love them," said Clint. "Kids films about wizarding school and defeating evil. Definitely no giant spiders."

Bucky just snorted. "Sure, of course not." He was silent for a moment and Clint rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling, watching the light from the television flicker across it.

"When are you coming back?" asked Bucky, in a quiet voice.

Clint let out a long sigh. "Don't know. Tomorrow afternoon, maybe. I want to get this damned floor finished, and there's not much more to go on it."

"Okay," said Bucky. "Yeah. I'm guessing mentioning that you shouldn't be working on it with the splint is-"

“Not a great idea right now, no,” finished Clint. “Come on, I'm three days away. They're basically already healed, this is just the doctor hedging her bets.”

“Right,” said Bucky, sceptically, but he let it go.

There was another silence and Clint felt himself starting to drift off again. He thought about flicking the TV off, but it seemed like far too much effort to move.

"Are we gonna argue again when you get back?" asked Bucky.

"Don't know," said Clint. He sighed. "I guess not. If you don't want to come out, we won't. Just, I really think we should."

"Yeah, I got that," said Bucky tersely, and Clint felt his frustrated desire to make him just _see_ that he was wrong bubble up. He took a deep breath and shoved it back down.

"Okay, I should go up to bed," he said instead. "Can't always sleep on the sofa, right?"

"I'm sure you'd give it a damn good try if you could," said Bucky, "but yeah. Okay. Guess I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"I'll let you know when I'm headed back," said Clint. "Night."

"Night," said Bucky, then hesitated. "I love you," he added, then hung up before Clint could respond.

Apparently Clint wasn't the only one who hated it when they argued. Maybe it was worth losing this one just so they could put it behind them and get back to being sickeningly in love.

Except, losing it meant he had no way to alter the way the media talked about Bucky, like he was a crazed killer who needed to be kept on a very short leash. Clint bashed his head back on the sofa cushion with frustration, then made himself get up, turn the TV off, and go to bed.

****

Clint was woken up by a nightmare, but it was late enough through the night for him to pretend he was just getting an early start on the day. He dragged himself up and drank as much coffee as possible, then got a start on the dining room floor.

He settled into getting it done a lot better than he had the day before, especially once he lost his temper and pulled the splint off. His fingers were a bit sore but they were mainly fine, and it was just getting in the way. 

He finished the floor just before lunchtime. He stood back and inspected his work, then took a photo and sent it to Bucky.

_I'm pretty much the king of DIY._

He tidied up his tools then glanced at the time. He could hurry back and be at the base in time for a late lunch, or he could hang out here a bit longer.

Outside, the sun was shining and the air was crisp, and he could see birds flitting overhead. He thought about how there were always groups of agents wandering around the base, cluttering up the open spaces, and decided he could get away with another hour or two here before he headed back. After all, he hadn't had any range time while he waited for his fingers to heal. Now he'd ditched the splint, he could start shooting again.

He lost an hour at the range, only snapping out of the cycle of drawing and shooting when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

_Good going. Does that mean you're heading back?_

Clint slung his bow over his shoulder and gathered up his arrows. _Just gonna grab an sandwich, then I'll fly back._

He made it as far as the porch, then there was a bark from somewhere around the other side of the house. A dog must be on his land. Maybe it was Mr Hughes and Cooper.

He dumped his bow and quiver on the porch, because Mr Hughes had already been greeted by weaponry on one visit to Clint and he should probably avoid a repeat if he didn't want to get a reputation.

When Clint got around the corner of the house though, it wasn't Cooper that was barking. It was a border collie Clint hadn't seen before, and it was alone. It gave another bark when it saw Clint.

"Hello, boy," he said, looking as non-threatening as possible. "What are you doing here, hey? Have you lost your owner?"

The dog tipped its head to one side and watched as Clint moved closer, holding still so that he could stroke a hand over his head. "Oh, you're a good boy," he said, crouching. "Look how handsome you are."

The dog gave him a besotted look, tongue hanging out, and Clint felt for a collar. Nothing.

"Where's your owner, then?" he asked, fussing over him. "Handsome boy like you must have an owner somewhere."

The dog gave him an affectionate lick, then suddenly tensed, his head turning to stare behind him. A moment later, he was up and running for the fence that marked the edge of Clint's land.

Clint chased after him because, well. Why not? Either the dog had heard its owner, in which case Clint could say hi, or he was chasing after a rabbit and was about to get even more lost than he already was.

The dog ducked under the fence and headed out over Mr Hughes's field towards a small copse. Clint clambered over the fence and followed.

The dog disappeared into the trees and Clint darted around a clump of bushes after him.

"Hey boy, hang on!" he called, then stopped dead.

Waiting for him behind the bushes were five men with guns and Barney, holding a bow on him.

"Ah, crap," said Clint, his heart sinking into his stomach. Bucky was going to kill him.


	8. Chapter 8

Barney grinned. "So predictable, Clint. Always chasing after dogs." He gestured with his arrow. "Hands up."

Clint raised his hands as the dog leapt up on one of the men, who bent to give him a thorough petting and a treat. "Good boy, well done," he heard him say.

Well, okay, at least if they were using the dog for evil, they were treating it well.

"I thought you'd figured out that kidnapping me was pointless," said Clint to Barney. "Or are you going to do a slightly better job of torturing your only surviving family member this time?"

Barney glared at him. "I don't need to," he said. "I know exactly who to sell you to." He gestured at one of his men, who tucked away his gun and advanced on Clint.

That didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all. What the hell did Barney think he knew?

"I really hope you're not talking about the demon king,” Clint said, trying to keep his tone light despite the dread starting to build up in his chest. “Pretty sure he only wants younger brothers when they're babies. You missed your chance on that one." He held still, gritting his teeth with frustration, as the minion patted him down, pulling his phone out of his pocket and the watch off his wrist.

Barney took the phone and glanced at it. "Starktech. I'm guessing bad things happen if I fiddle with this, yeah?"

Clint gave a shrug. "If you could crack the passcode, you'd have access to a bunch of photos of pizza." And the phone would send an alert to the base that someone without Clint's fingerprints was using it, which would trigger a rescue.

Barney snorted. "You really never bothered growing up, did you?" he said, which was rich for the guy running about kidnapping people by using dogs as bait. He took a holdall from one of his men and pulled out a bundle of clothes, then threw the phone and watch in.

"Okay, everything off," he said to Clint. "Right down to your skin."

"Aw, come on," said Clint. "It's a bit cold for that, isn't it?"

One of the men clicked the safety off his gun and Clint gave in. He pulled his sweater and shirt off together and dumped them in the bag, then toed off his shoes and started on his pants. "Being made to strip at gunpoint," he muttered. "And people think being an Avenger is glamorous."

All his clothes got chucked into the bag while he stood there shivering, forcing himself not to self-consciously shield his dick from them.

"And your aids," said Barney.

Aw man, not again. "Isn't it enough you had me running about without being able to hear last time?” asked Clint.

Barney snorted. "Don't give me that pathetic disabled guy face, we both know that the first place anyone would put a tracker on you would be in your aids. Off."

There were trackers in Clint's aids, watch and belt, but it didn't look like any of them were going to do any good. He reluctantly pulled the aids out of his ears, muting the world, and then switched them off before adding them to the pile in the bag.

Barney gave him a glance up and down, as if making sure he really was completely naked and humiliated, then threw him the clothes he was holding.

_Get dressed,_ he signed.

The bundle of clothes included a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie but no underwear or shoes. Clint pulled them on with a scowl.

“There's something pretty pervy about forcing your brother to go commando,” he said.

Barney ignored him. He zipped up the bag and shoved it right underneath a tangle of bushes, where no one was going to spot it by accident and even the guys who eventually came after Clint's trackers were going to find it tricky to find. Aw man, Bucky really was going to kill him.

At least they weren't still arguing, Clint thought, and then had to grit his teeth against the thought of being killed and leaving Bucky behind with nothing more than a text about a sandwich as his last words.

Barney gestured at his men and they formed up around Clint, guns still firmly pointed at him. Given how easily Clint had let himself be kidnapped twice now, he wasn't sure he warranted that level of wariness.

Kidnapped because he wanted to pet a dog. If Bucky didn't kill him, Natasha definitely would.

_This way,_ signed Barney and gestured towards the road.

Clint debated being stubborn about it but right now, the best plan was to just go along with it and hope for a rescue before whatever Barney's plan was got too far along. He walked through the copse with bare feet, trying to avoid treading on anything too painful and looking up to glare at Barney every so often.

Who the hell could he have found to sell Clint to? Who'd actually pay money for a lightly-foxed second-hand archer, let alone enough money for Barney to buy his own tropical island to retire to or whatever he was saving up for?

Shit, those Russians weren't still pissed off about the thing with the poker game, were they? Nah, no way they had enough cash for this.

Maybe the crooked Bolivian judge and his stooges? Except he'd still be in prison and there was no way he had enough influence to organise this from inside.

There was a van and a car waiting by the roadside. Barney opened the back doors of the van and then turned back to give an envelope to the guy with the dog. A pay off. He must be an outside contractor. An outside contractor who had trained his dog to lure people into traps. You really could get anything if you knew where to look for it. Clint wondered if he was on Craigslist.

“You better spend some of that on the dog,” he called out to the guy, who just gave him a grin and a thumbs up, then whistled the dog over to the car.

Barney gave Clint a look of complete exasperation that was achingly familiar. It took him a moment to realise where he had seen it before, over twenty years ago.

“Huh,” he said. “I never realised how much you look like Mom.”

Barney's face shut down into a scowl. _Shut up and get in the van,_ he signed.

Clint gave him an unrepentant shrug and climbed in. There were a couple of benches inside and even a window, which meant it made it into the top ten vehicles Clint had been kidnapped in. One of Barney's minions forced him down onto a bench with a firm hand on his shoulder, then cuffed his wrists and ankles.

Barney climbed in after the two of them and sat opposite Clint. The minion cradled a gun as he sat beside him, glaring at Clint as if begging him for an excuse to use it. The doors were shut after them and a moment later the engine vibrated to life and they lurched off.

Clint glared at Barney. “I hope you know that this time, my team aren't going to let you off with a friendly warning like they did last time.”

Barney snorted. _Your team didn't let me off with anything. I got away, and I'm going to get away again. They'll have far bigger problems than tracking me down._

“All right, fine,” said Clint. “Who is this mysterious buyer you've got for me? Cuz, if it's anyone from Eastern Europe, I'm gonna-”

_Don't be an idiot,_ signed Barney. _It's Hydra. Who else would buy through the nose for the Winter Soldier's soulmate?_

Clint's blood froze. “What?” he croaked out. “I'm not Bucky's soulmate,” he managed, although the lie felt like ashes in his mouth. “I'm linked to Doris, totally charming lady, runs the cafeteria at the base. I fell in love with her meatloaf, you know how it is.”

_I'm not an idiot, and I wasn't so far away when he rescued you that I didn't see the look on his face,_ signed Barney. _Even before he punched a guy's skull in for looking twice at you. The media might not have picked up on what that means, but I'm not an idiot._

Shit. Shit shit shit. Clint couldn't argue against that logic, not if Barney really had seen Bucky's expression back then.

Of course, there was plenty of other crappy logic in Barney's plan to argue against.

“You really are,” he said. “C'mon, look at yourself. You think you know who the Winter Soldier's soulmate is, the same Winter Soldier that makes trained assassins shit their pants just by reputation, and you decide to kidnap him and sell him to neo-Nazis. Jesus, Barney, your plans are even worse than mine, and that's saying something.”

Barney shook his head. _It's an excellent plan. Gets me all the money I need in one go._

“It's a fucking mistake,” said Clint. “Even if it didn't mean royally screwing over your brother, it would be a fucking mistake. Shit, do you have any idea what they'll do to me?”

Barney clenched his jaw and shook his head. _You're not going to persuade me against it._

“Some fucking brother you are,” said Clint, bitterly. He kicked out at Barney with his chained legs and earned himself a cocked gun aimed at his head from the minion.

Barney glared at him. _Shut up and stay still, or I'll knock you out._

Clint gave up. For whatever reason, Barney had apparently decided a wad of cash was better than a brother, and getting into bed with fucking Hydra was the best way to achieve that.

Fuck. Clint could only hope that both he and Bucky would get out of this in a good enough condition for Bucky to kill him afterwards, otherwise-

Well, otherwise Clint was going to give fratricide a go. He had a feeling he could be good at it, if properly motivated.

****

Being trapped in a moving vehicle with your evil brother and your evil brother's minion got dull very quickly. Well, when Clint wasn't having to suppress the fear that kept trying to overwhelm him. What the hell was he going to be able to do to stop Bucky making some stupid sacrifice if Barney did hand Clint over to Hydra?

All he could hope was that Steve would step in and stop Bucky, but that relied on Bucky actually listening to him.

How long would it take for them to realise Clint was gone? If Bucky was waiting for Clint to eat a sandwich then fly back, it might be a couple of hours before he started to wonder where he'd got to.

The cuffs were loose enough for him to slide his sleeve up and press his finger against his print. He shut his eyes so that he could ignore the look of amused derision on Barney's face and just concentrate on Bucky instead.

Bucky clearly didn't have a clue that anything had happened to Clint yet. He was filled with affection shot through with mild irritation, and was doing something that he was enjoying. There was a burst of exertion and a moment of triumph that Clint recognised all too well. He was sparring, probably with Steve.

Clint focused past the immediate emotions and found an underlayer of anticipation mingled with anxiety and affection. Apparently Bucky was looking forward to having Clint back, but also kinda worried about it.

Well, he was going to be far more worried in an hour or two, and not just that they'd get into another fight.

There was a kick against Clint's leg and he opened his eyes to see Barney looking at him.

_Does he know you're gone yet?_

Clint scowled at him. "Like I'd tell you anything about it. And I told you, my soulmate's not a him. Hey, how pissed off do you think Hydra are going to be when they get a lunch lady instead of a super-soldier?"

Barney clearly wasn't buying it, but Clint didn't really care right now. He shut his eyes again and focused on Bucky, ignoring Barney when he kicked him again.

They drove for long enough for Bucky to stop sparring and go and do something that made a calm settle down over him. Showering, maybe? Or just settling on the sofa with a book or the TV?

At any rate, he wasn't freaking out because his soulmate had been kidnapped. Clint wasn't really looking forward to feeling that, although it would be good to know that someone was coming after him.

The van stopped moving and the engine vibration stopped. Clint opened his eyes just as Barney kicked him again.

_No messing about,_ he signed. _You do what I want, when I want it. My men all have instructions that it's perfectly fine to shoot you somewhere non-life threatening._

Clint just glared at him as the van door was opened. Barney climbed out then grabbed Clint's arm and dragged him out as well, onto gravel-strewn packed earth that stung the soles of Clint's feet.

They were underneath an underpass, half-hidden from the road by the concrete pillars holding it up. There were three ominous-looking black vans waiting for them, surrounded by armed agents.

Hydra. Great.

"You're a fucking asshole," Clint spat at Barney, who glared at him.

_Shut up,_ he signed with violent movements.

Hydra advanced and Barney moved to meet them, and then had a long chat with one of them that Clint couldn't follow because he couldn't see their mouths. Barney didn't look happy though, which was either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

Barney clenched his fists and took a step towards the Hydra agent, and all the others drew their guns. There was a tense moment when Clint thought there was going to be a firefight that would give him the chance to escape, then Barney backed down, turning away with an unhappy shake of his head to gesture at his men to bring Clint forward.

"I was told I'd get paid now," Clint read him saying. Ah, Hydra were proving unreliable about paying their bills. Who would have guessed that would happen?

Barney's men grabbed Clint's arms and pulled him forward. The shackles on his ankles were lose enough for him to get about three-quarters of his usual stride, which was irritating but at least meant he wasn't shuffling, or being dragged. The uneven ground was painful on his feet and he was a bit worried about trending on something sharp that would slice him up. This looked like just the kind of place for tiny bits of scrap metal and broken glass.

The lead Hydra agent looked him over. "You'll get paid when we have our Soldier back," he said to Barney.

"He's not yours," snapped Clint, and one of them hit him in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and Barney's men yanked him back upright.

_I said to be quiet,_ signed Barney at him.

"What was that?" asked the Hydra agent.

"I told him to shut up," said Barney. "We left his hearing aids behind, in case they were bugged."

The Hydra agent nodded. "We don't need to communicate with him, anyway." He signalled to two of his men and they came forward to grab Clint's arms in place of Barney's guys.

Clint sent Barney the fiercest glare he could manage. "You're a fucking terrible brother," he said. "And a complete idiot if you think these guys will give you a penny once you let them walk off with me."

Barney hesitated, then looked back at the Hydra guy. "Hydra's word is our bond," he said, as Clint was pulled away towards one of their vehicles. He tried to drag his feet so he could look back at Barney, but that just earned him a blow around the head and a friction burn on one of his feet.

He was thrown into the van with a lot less delicacy than Barney's guys had used, landing on his front and only barely saving his face from getting smacked in by catching himself with his cuffed hands. He turned as the van doors were shut to see Barney still arguing with the Hydra guy.

There was nothing in the van except bare metal, and very little light. Clint rolled onto his back and then sat himself up against the side of the van. Well, this was an enormous fucking mess. He tapped his head back against the van wall, then gave into temptation and felt for his print.

Bucky was starting to feel more anxious than relaxed, and there was a hint of impatience along with it. Great, he must have realised that Clint should have been back at the base already. How long was it going to take him to realise that something worse had happened than Clint deciding to take a nap or getting distracted by another DIY project?

Clint was in the van for quite a while before he felt the engine start and they pulled away with enough force to make him lose his balance. He'd spent enough time handcuffed in the back of moving vehicles -and wasn't that a sad statement about his life- to know that he wasn't going to have a lot of luck staying upright, so he stayed lying on his side, bracing himself into a corner as best he could to avoid rolling across the floor every time they went around a corner. As it was, he still ended up with a whole heap of bruises.

It was a lot harder to read Bucky than it had been in the other van, but he managed to keep a pretty close watch on it. He was reading him at the precise moment his irritation broke into a wave of frustration that came with a shot of anger. A moment later that anger turned into fear and Clint thought he must have finally got around to reading his print, and felt that Clint was shot through with fear and panic, edged with just a bit of pain from his feet and the bruises.

Wherever Hydra took Clint was several hours drive from the place they'd rendezvoused with Barney. They only stopped once, in a deserted field, to swap Clint into a different but identical van, presumably to throw off any tail.

This kidnapping was worryingly professional. Clint wasn't sure exactly how the other Avengers were going to be able to track him down. They would be able to do it, though. Right? He wasn't going to just disappear into some top secret hydra base and never be heard of again.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep calm. Getting all panicked just because he was being held captive by Hydra and was about to be used as bait for his soulmate wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Bucky's worry snapped and a surge of decisiveness and determination flooded through him. Hopefully that meant he was heading out to find Clint.

When the van next stopped moving and the doors were thrown open, they were inside a warehouse. Three agents with guns gestured Clint out but he took his time, having a good look around as he did so. The warehouse was mostly empty with a couple of shelves along one wall, covered with what looked like the kind of crap that got left behind in warehouses the world over. There were a handful of walkways overhead, which Clint noted with the keen eye of someone who liked to be as high as possible, but they didn't seem to lead anywhere useful.

One of the agents lost their temper and grabbed Clint's cuffs, yanking him forward out of the van and shouting something that was probably an order to hurry up. Clint managed to get his feet under himself in time to avoid going to his knees and sent the guy a glare that was, predictably, ignored.

Two of the agents were moving aside a couple of large wooden crates to reveal a trapdoor. Right, okay, secret underground base, of course. Nothing but the best for Hydra's kidnap victims.

Another van pulled up and, to Clint's surprise, Barney climbed out of it, looking sour.

"I thought you'd be miles away by now," Clint said, doing his best to pitch his voice loudly enough to be heard clearly when he couldn't judge volume at all.

Barney glared at him but didn't say anything. When the trapdoor was levered open to reveal a staircase that Clint was prodded down, Barney followed.

At the bottom of the staircase was a security room, then Clint was taken down a long corridor to a heavy metal door. As it was being opened, he glanced to the side and felt his blood freeze. The door opposite was ajar, and through the gap he could see the ominous shape of a large metal chair.

He'd been really, really hoping that the one they'd destroyed in Canada had been the last of those.

The door in front of him swung open to reveal an empty cell and he was pushed through, then the door was slammed behind him.

Okay, this looked bad.

****

Clint was left in the cell for about an hour, during which time Bucky's emotions blossomed into complete terror and desperation. Clint tried to keep his own emotions as level as he could so that Bucky would know he hadn't been hurt, but it was hard when he had the image of that chair looming large in his mind.

When the door was opened again, he was pulled out and taken through into the room where the chair was, which sent a healthy dose of terror running up his spine. Barney was in there with a couple of Hydra agents, one of whom turned and gave Clint a wide smile.

"Agent Barton, we meet again," he said, clearly enough for Clint to read his lips.

Clint blinked at him, then glanced at Barney, who avoided his gaze, before looking back. "Sorry, do I know you?"

The man's grin fell off and he scowled at him. "Don't give me that. You recognise me."

Clint shrugged. "I meet a lot of bad guys."

The agent looked genuinely offended at that and said something that was indignant enough for Clint to lose track of reading his lips.

"What's he saying?" Clint asked Barney. "You took my aids, you can play interpreter."

Barney gave him an irritated eye roll but obligingly raised his hands to sign.

_He's saying he was at SHIELD and you used to work together, along with a lot of swear words._

Clint looked back at the guy with a critical eye, trying to picture him in SHIELD black rather than Hydra black. He shook his head. "Nah, not remembering you. Did we have any missions together?"

_He says he was in San Diego,_ signed Barney.

Clint rolled his eyes. "There were tons of guys in San Diego, and most of them were only level 1s."

The guy went pink.

Clint snorted. "Wait, you were a level 1? Of course I'm not gonna remember you, dude, level 1s were glorified security guards."

"You'll remember me now," hissed the guy, Barney translating his words as he spoke. "My name is Heath, and I'm the one who is going to restore the glory of HYDRA, and bring back the Winter Soldier!"

Oh god, he was a total fruitcake. Well, he was Hydra, Clint probably should have seen that coming. "You're gonna end up with a metal fist in your brain."

"Can we get on with this?" interrupted Barney. "I'm not actually here to play interpreter while you practice your evil guy gloating."

Heath turned his glare from Clint to Barney, then glanced at his minions. "Gag him."

Clint hated being gagged, especially when he was already deaf, but there didn't seem a lot of point in fighting. At least, not until the next order Heath gave, looking straight at him with a malicious grin that made it clear he wanted Clint to be able to read his lips.

"Put him in the chair."

Blinding panic flooded through Clint's mind and he did fight then, lashing out with his cuffed hands at the first guard who reached for him and jumping with both bare feet to stomp on the toes of another.

It didn't do him any good. Despite his very best efforts, he was pulled forward and forced into the chair, held down as his hands were uncuffed so they could be strapped down instead. Clint managed to get a good headbutt in on one of the guys that made him start back with what looked like a swear word.

He glanced over at Barney, who was just standing in the corner, watching, and sent him a fierce glare that he hoped conveyed exactly how he felt about a guy who would just let his brother be brainwashed in front of his eyes.

Barney rolled his eyes. _It's just for show,_ he signed. _They're making a video for your soulmate and you're the backdrop._

Relief crashed over Clint, right up until he pictured Bucky's likely reaction to receiving a video clip of what was his worst nightmare come to life. Oh man, there was no way he wasn't going to do something stupid once he saw that.

One of the Hydra agents pulled out a video camera and got it set up, while Heath smoothed down his hair and straightened his Hydra uniform.

He stood in front of Clint to film it, which meant Clint couldn't see his mouth and had no idea what he was saying, but he could guess. _We've got your boyfriend and we'll do horrible things to him unless you come back here and let us do horrible things to you instead, and also probably him as well because we're Hydra and of course we're going to double-cross you._

Well, maybe they'd just leave that last bit as subtext.

Clint concentrated on looking as calm and unhurt as possible, wishing there was some way he could communicate with Bucky so he could tell him not to do anything stupid.

Heath finished the recording, then turned to grin at Clint. "That should get him to come running. Hail Hydra!"

The other agents all raised their fists and chanted it back at him, apparently unaware of how stupid they looked.

Barney straightened from where he had been leaning back against a wall. "Great. Now pay me."

Heath shook his head and said something Clint didn't catch, turning away from him and gesturing to his men to unstrap Clint from the chair. Barney reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Don't fuck about with me. I'm done waiting. Pay me so I can leave."

Clint snorted behind the gag, wishing he could point out the stupidity of trusting Hydra to keep their promises. From the look Barney gave him, he didn't need to actually vocalise it.

He was unstrapped, re-handcuffed and pulled up while Barney and Heath continued the argument, then marched back out of the room and to his cell, then thrown back in.

He didn't bother sitting up before burying his finger under his sleeve to read Bucky, who seemed to be freaking the fuck out.

Yeah, him and Clint both.

****

A couple of hours passed, during which time Clint pulled off the gag, because he really fucking hated gags, then just sat on the concrete floor of his cell, obsessively reading Bucky.

Bucky's emotions remained in a swirl of anger and fear, then descended abruptly into a deadly cold rage that made Clint think he'd seen the video. He figured that Bucky was probably reading him just as much in return, so he took care to not think too much about the looming horror of the chair in the other room and instead concentrated on being bored. Boredom seemed like the most reassuring message he could send Bucky right now. _See, they're not hurting me or anything, I'm just locked up and waiting for you guys to come get me. No need to make any stupid moves._

The cell door opened and Clint braced himself for more stupid threats from Heath, but instead of guards coming in for him, Barney was pushed through, then the door slammed shut again.

Barney turned back and pounded on the door, shouting something after them.

Clint sniggered. “Oh man, did the evil neo-Nazi organisation of evil turn out to be full of assholes?”

Barney turned and sent him a half-hearted glare, then sighed and his shoulders slumped. _They still haven't paid me, so I said I'd go find the Avengers instead and see if I could get money out of them for info on where you are. Didn't go down so well._

Clint rolled his eyes. “And that, right there, is proof that really shitty ideas are genetic and I shouldn't be blamed for the ones I come up with.”

Barney shrugged and sat down against the wall opposite Clint, looking defeated. Clint entirely failed to have sympathy for him. _I had to try something. I need that damned money._

“Oh yeah, for your precious fucking retirement,” said Clint. “My heart bleeds for you, man.”

That earned him a dark scowl, then Barney tipped his head back against the wall and apparently gave up on talking to him. That was more than fine with Clint. He set in on pretending he was still alone in the cell and slipped his finger back over his mark.

Bucky was still furious, but there was a strong core of single-minded dedication that meant he'd made a decision on what to do. Oh man, please don't let it be a stupid self-sacrificing thing. Let him at least have talked it out with Steve and the others. Please let it be a genuine Avengers plan and not a Bucky-Barnes-is-a-moron plan.

It didn't feel like it, not with the occasional bubble of suppressed hope drifting up through Bucky's emotions, but Clint didn't trust him to do the sensible thing in this situation. If their positions were reversed, there was no way he'd be doing the sensible thing.

_Does he feel like he's on his way?_ signed Barney.

Clint scowled at him. “Don't make me come over there and kick your ass,” he said. “Like I'm gonna fucking tell you a single thing about what you're putting my soulmate through with this stupid fucking stunt of yours.” He scrubbed his hands up through his hair, frustration and anger bursting through him, and had to take a deep breath to stop himself from just attacking Barney anyway. 

“I seriously don't get it,” he added. “Is this some kind of Dad thing, where you're so pissed I've activated when you haven't that you want me to hurt for it?”

_What makes you think I haven't activated?_ signed Barney.

Clint snorted. “Simple. Because you've got no idea just what a fucked up thing this is to do to anyone, let alone your own fucking brother.”

Barney shook his head and his jaw clenched. He glanced off to the side, then said, “Fuck you,” and pulled off his right glove. He held his hand up to Clint, showing the dark black lines of his print on the heel of his hand.

Clint stared at it, then back at Barney's face. “Wait, you know exactly how this feels, and you did it to me anyway?” And, wow, he'd thought he'd hit just about the lowest depths of betrayal before but it seemed there was always another layer to go down.

He clenched his fists but kept himself in place with a great deal of effort. If he started a fight now, whilst cuffed and with his legs chained, he might win but he wouldn't be able to do it quickly enough to stop Hydra rushing in to separate them, and probably getting a few of their own shots in. Clint wanted to lull them into a false sense of security so that if he spotted an opening, they would be taken by surprise when he took it.

Barney tugged his glove back on. _It's because I know that I'm doing this. I need that money for her, Clint. There was no other way to get it, not without it taking way too long._ He hesitated before he added, _I'm sorry,_ which Clint just rolled his eyes at.

“Oh yeah, I'm sure you're real sorry. Asshole.”

Barney shook his head. _We activated three years ago,_ he signed, _but we only got six months together. A guy I knew put a team together for a job, and she was the locksmith. She's incredible, Clint, can get through any lock. We shook hands when we met and, well. That was it. We worked together for a few months and it was perfect. Every job we went after, we pulled off. We started making a real name for ourselves. And then..._

He paused and shook his head. _We were doing a job in Turkey and it went south. The police turned up a lot quicker than we'd expected and she couldn't get out in time. They arrested her, charged her with a bunch of stuff, and stuck her in jail for what's going to be most of our lives._

“Oh, heartbreaking,” said Clint. “Can't imagine what it must be like to be locked up. Oh, wait...” He raised his cuffed hands and gave them a meaningful shake.

Barney rolled his eyes. _Don't be an idiot. We both know your friends will get you out of this soon enough. She's stuck there for good, and it's a really shitty place. She's not doing so well there. I need money to fund a break out, and then for us to disappear for the rest of our lives where they can't get us again. That shit ain't cheap._

“Sorry,” said Clint, ignoring the second bit, “that's part of your plan? Rely on my friends being able to break me out of a Hydra base when they don't even know where it is?”

Barney shrugged. _They're the Avengers. Always seemed like there's not much they can't do._

Clint just stared then tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling with a tired laugh. “Okay, the next time our PR lady tells me that the public don't have faith in our abilities, I'm telling her about this. You fucker.”

_Didn't seem much else I could do,_ Barney signed when Clint looked back down at him. _She's having a real hard time. It's not a great place to be, and the other inmates are the only thing worse than the guards. Things are really shit. I don't know that she'll be able to hold on much longer._ His finger rubbed over his glove, where his print lay underneath. _Guess that's the thing about soulmates. They can never get away with putting on a brave face for each other._

“No,” agreed Clint, his finger creeping back to his own print. Bucky was absolutely terrified now, filled with so much dread that it almost drowned out the anger, but the determination was still there. If anything, it was only stronger.

Barney's head perked up and turned to the door, but it didn't open.

_Something's happening,_ he signed. _Lot of guys running past. Some shouting, but can't hear what it's about. Your guys coming for a rescue?_

Clint shook his head. “No idea. Maybe it's just dinner time.” Bucky didn't feel like he was fighting, but there was definitely something going on that had sent his emotions into a maelstrom.

The cell door opened and three guards came in, heading straight for Clint. They grabbed his arms and pulled him up, then one of them grabbed the gag and put it back on him, smacking the side of his head when he tried to duck away from it.

Barney had stood up as well and looked like he was demanding answers about what was going on, but he was being ignored.

Once the gag was on, Clint was yanked out of the cell and back into the room with the chair, where he was greeted with a sight that stopped his heart.

Bucky was already in there, surrounded by a whole troop of incredibly nervous-looking Hydra agents, with his hands and ankles chained together. His eyes lit up when he saw Clint but that didn't hide what a mess he was, with his hands clenched tight and his hair all over the place. He'd been stripped down to one of the thin t-shirts he usually wore under his body armour. 

_You fucking idiot,_ Clint wanted to say, but the gag kept him from doing more than glaring at him.

Bucky's eyes ran over him, no doubt looking for injuries, then went back up to his face, lingering on his ears. “Hey,” he said, signing a greeting at the same time.

Clint made an angry noise in his throat and shook his head.

“Yeah, figured you'd be pissed,” said Bucky. He signed at the same time as he spoke, but what he was signing didn't match up with his mouth at all, and he was a bit hampered by the handcuffs. Clint struggled to read both his lips and his signing at the same time. _Don't worry, got a plan. Others on way._ “Have they hurt you?”

Clint shook his head again. A plan. Great. Hopefully it was better than anything Clint would have come up with. _Don't let them hurt you,_ he signed in return.

Barney was shuffled into the room by another guard and then Heath swept in, obviously trying for a dramatic entrance but not quite nailing it. A couple of technicians came in behind him and headed over to the chair, pulling up computer screens and starting to do something to it that made a heavy feeling press down on Clint's gut.

“Are you gonna pay me now?” asked Barney, gesturing at Bucky. “You've got what you wanted.”

Heath glanced at him. “Don't make me gag you as well as your brother,” he said. “I'm done with listening to you two. You never shut up.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” asked Barney, desperation threading his voice. If he really thought this was his only chance at helping his soulmate, then he must be pretty upset right now. The thought made Clint feel slightly better. Slightly. “This isn't how you do business. Why the fuck do you even want me still here? Just give me the money and let me get out of your hair.”

Heath gestured at the guard nearest Barney, who punched him. “I have bigger issues to deal with than you,” he said, and turned away to Bucky. Clint watched as Barney slumped back against the wall, looking defeated, and then a look of pure hatred and rage passed over his face for a split-second.

Clint redirected his attention back to Heath in time to see him gesture at the chair. “Now you've seen he's unharmed, fulfil your end of the bargain,” he said to Bucky.

Clint couldn't stop himself from trying to move forward to- to what? What could he even do to stop Bucky going anywhere near that thing?

Bucky didn't even look at the chair. “You're sure this is what you want to do?” he asked. “Might be a lot better for you to just let us go and run for the hills instead.”

Heath laughed. “No chance. In the chair, or your soulmate won't remain so unharmed.”

Bucky locked eyes with Clint and took a deep breath, shoulders going rigid. He started to move towards the chair and Clint had to bite at the inside of his cheek to stop himself screaming. Oh man, please let Tony's tech have worked.

Except, of course, that relied on Clint being able to say the trigger words to bring Bucky back to himself, but how could he do that with this gag on?

Bucky stopped in front of the chair, apparently unable to force himself to actually sit in it. Heath gestured to a couple of his guards, who pushed Bucky down and strapped him in.

Clint thought he was going to vomit at the sight of it. He tried to pull towards Bucky and was held back, earning himself a punch to the stomach. Bucky looked at him, jaw set, and captured his gaze with a fierce look that did nothing to hide the fear behind it. Or maybe it did to anyone else in the room, but Clint knew him too well and knew exactly how terrified he was.

With the guards holding his arms, there wasn't much he could even sign, but he only needed on hand for _I love you._.

Bucky tracked it, then managed a weak smile and a nod.

Heath cackled with laughter. “Look at you now!” he crowed. “The Winter Soldier, brought down by the weakness of having a soulmate!”

Bucky bared his teeth at him. “He's not a weakness,” he gritted out. “He's my biggest strength.”

“Oh sure,” said Heath. “That's exactly what it looks like right now.” 

He gestured at the technicians and they brought the machinery down over Bucky's face and tipped him back. Lights flashed on the panels and Clint saw Bucky's chest heave as he started to scream.

Clint didn't know if it was better or worse that he couldn't actually hear him this time, but after twelve hours in that room in Tony's tower, he knew exactly what Bucky sounded like when he was in this much pain. He glanced around the room to see that Heath was grinning with pleasure, most of the agents looked like they were freaking the fuck out, and Barney. Well, Barney looked absolutely horrified. He caught Clint's eye and signed _I'm so sorry,_ at him.

It was too fucking late for apologies.

He just glared at him and looked back to Bucky. There had to have been something he could have done to prevent this, to keep Bucky from having to get back into that chair. Why the fuck did he go chasing off after some random dog like an idiot? Hell, why did he go out to the farm on his own at all?

The chair powered down and moved back upright, leaving Bucky blinking with confusion at Heath in front of him. His face had gone blank and there was nothing behind his eyes, just as there hadn't been when they wiped him at Tony's.

Clint gritted his teeth behind the gag. This was when he should be saying the new trigger words and getting Bucky back to himself.

Heath pulled out a red book and started reading words out from it. Bucky just stared at him. Clint didn't bother tracking his lips to find out what they were. What would they do when Bucky didn't snap into being their Winter Soldier? Put him back in the chair for another go? Clint didn't think he could stand to see that.

The guards who had been holding Clint's arms had let them go, too busy watching Heath as he tried to take over Bucky's mind. Clint glanced over at Barney. _Are you sorry enough to help?_ he signed. 

Barney nodded, glancing at the guard next to him, who had also lost all real interest in his charge. _What can I do?_ he replied.

Clint took a deep breath and, like the fucking idiot he was, put his trust in the guy who had got him in this mess to start with.

_I need you to say these words out loud, as quickly as you can, without stopping or getting distracted._

Barney glanced over at Bucky then back at Clint, and gave a small nod.

Clint took a deep breath, then shaped his hands around the words he'd been hoping he'd never have to use. Barney didn't hesitate, calling them out as fast as Clint could sign them, interrupting Heath before he was even halfway through his own list.

“Range. Knife. Hoodie. Brooklyn.” 

Heath turned to glare at Barney and gestured at the guard next to him, who tried to hit him, but Barney ducked under his fist and kept calling the words out. 

“Keyring. Rooftop. Moron. Slingshot.”

One of the agents caught Barney's leg and tripped him up, and he rolled away from him, looking like the air had been driven out of him. Heath didn't seem to have realised that Clint was signing the words to him and both the agents who were meant to be watching him started forward to stop Barney as he called out the last two words.

“Raccoon. Fist-bump.”

Clint was maybe the only person in the room who was looking at Bucky when the last word was said. He blinked, then flicked his eyes left to Clint, but that was all the sign he gave that something might have changed. By the time Heath looked around from where the Hydra agents were restraining Barney, the blank look was back on his face.

Hope swelled in Clint's chest, but it still felt too weak for him to trust. What if Hydra's words took precedence over the new ones, or they hadn't fully embedded or... Clint didn't have any idea how any of this even worked, how was he meant to know if it had gone wrong?

“What was that?” asked Heath. “Has it done anything to him?” The technicians glanced at each other, then at the dials and panels in front of them.

“Uh, I don't think so,” said one of them.

Heath looked back at Bucky with a frown and hesitated. “I'll start over and we'll see how he reacts,” he said, and Clint thought he was going to collapse with relief. He wasn't going to put Bucky through the chair again, thank fuck.

Heath read Hydra's words out again while Bucky continued to just sit quietly and stare at him. When he finished, Bucky blinked and his shoulders resettled.

“Soldier?” asked Heath, looking very unsure.

“Ready to comply,” said Bucky, in a dead voice.

Clint thought he was going to vomit again. Oh man, this kind of shit was not good for his stress levels. Where the hell were the others? What happened to Bucky's so-called plan?

Heath grinned at Bucky, then glanced over at Clint with a disgustingly smug look. “Soldier, do you recognise the men in this room?”

Bucky glanced about, eyes washing over Clint with as little interest as it did the other Hydra agents and Barney. “No.”

Clint was aware of Barney staring at him, but he wasn't interested in him right now. If they got out of this, he'd thank him for putting himself on the line like that, then punch his face in for getting him into this mess in the first place, but that could wait.

“There would be no problem if I told you to kill any of them?” asked Heath.

Bucky just blinked at him. “None. Is that my mission?”

Heath's grin was so wide that it took over half his face. “No,” he said, and gestured to the technicians. “Let him up. Time to begin the rebirth of Hydra!”

“Hail Hydra!” chanted the other agents like idiots, punching their fists in the air.

Heath gestured to Clint and Barney. “Throw those two back in their cell until I've decided if we still need them around or if we can safely dispose of them.”

Bucky had been unstrapped and had stood up, but stood perfectly still as Clint and Barney were dragged back out. Clint glanced back, hoping to catch some sign from his face that he was still him, but either he was too good an actor or he truly was back to being the Winter Soldier.


	9. Chapter 9

They were pushed back in the cell and the door was slammed behind them.

_What the hell was-_ Barney started to sign, and then stopped and turned to stare at the door. Clint followed his gaze but there was nothing there, which meant he was hearing something.

Clint ripped off the gag. “What is it?” he asked.

Barney shook his head. _Fighting. Screams. Gunshots._

Clint pushed his finger inside his sleeve to his print. There wasn't even a hint of the hard shell that had surrounded Bucky's emotions when Hydra had him before. 

He grinned obnoxiously widely at Barney. “That's Bucky.” He'd waited until Clint was safely behind a steel door before taking the agents out, so that Clint couldn't be used against him again.

Barney shook his head. _Just so you know, you have the weirdest soulmate._

“I have the best soulmate,” corrected Clint. “Makes up for my lousy brother.”

_I helped you out, didn't I? Said those stupid words and got hit for my trouble,_ signed Barney.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” said Clint. “You got me out of the crappy situation you put me in to start with.”

The door shuddered with enough force for Clint to see the movement, then flew open to reveal Bucky, surrounded by fallen agents.

Clint grinned. “My hero,” he said, pressing his hands to his chest and faking a swoon.

Bucky barely spared him a glance before he glared at Barney. “Do I need to take him out as well?” he asked. He didn't bother signing it, presumably because he had a gun in each hand and he wanted to keep them pointed at Barney.

Clint looked at Barney, who backed away, hands raised defensively. “Hey, I helped! I'm totally with you guys now. Hydra are evil, let's go kill them all.”

Clint snorted, then shook his head. “I don't think he'll give us any more trouble.”

Bucky looked back at Clint, then glanced over his shoulder at the corridor to check they were still alone except for the agents he'd already taken out. He tucked his guns in his waistband as he came inside the cell and finally swept Clint up in his arms to give him a long, fervent kiss that Clint happily gave into.

“Stop doing that to me,” said Bucky when he'd pulled away, hands clutching at Clint.

Clint nodded. “I'll do my very best.”

Bucky rolled his eyes then stepped back so that he could pull Clint's cuffs apart with his metal hand. “Like I believe that,” he said, then bent to get the manacles on Clint's legs as well.

When he stood up, he kissed Clint again, then stepped away, back towards the corridor. He grabbed a gun from an unconscious agent and tossed it to Clint, who checked the clip. He glanced at Barney, who had just leaned back against a wall with his arms crossed, looking resigned.

“Where are the others?” asked Clint.

“They should be coming in the front way any second,” said Bucky. “I sent the signal a couple of minutes ago. This base was a lot smaller than we were expecting, but that doesn't mean there aren't more agents lurking about somewhere. I bought your spare aids but they took them off me. Are you gonna be okay without them?”

Clint nodded. “Not my first time doing this deaf.”

The ground shook and a layer of dust fell from the ceiling.

“That'll be the others,” said Bucky, glancing back down the corridor. “The plan was for us to just hole up and wait for them once I got you out of harm's way, but this place is tiny. How about we just go meet them instead?”

Clint grinned. “Sounds much more my speed than hiding out.” 

Barney took a step forward, attracting Clint's attention. “Yeah, mine too.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh, no way in hell you're coming with us, not with how much you seem to like stabbing Clint in the back."

"Oh, come on," said Barney. "I'm not-"

"He's right," interrupted Clint. "We'd be dividing our attention between Hydra and you the whole time, and it's going to be annoying enough that I'm deaf. We'll lock you in and the others can pick you up when the base has been cleared."

Barney made a face. _I'm not going to stab you in the back,_ he signed to Clint.

"Yeah, that would be more believable if you hadn't already done it," said Clint, stepping outside and shutting the door on him.

Outside, the place was littered with the agents Bucky had taken down. Most of them were just unconscious but a couple looked dead, and a few were possibly just pretending to be unconscious in order to avoid getting another smackdown.

"Did you get Heath?" Clint asked, looking around.

Bucky frowned. _Who?_ he signed, then pulled the guns back out of his waistband.

"The guy in charge."

"Agent Melodramatic?" asked Bucky, and shook his head. "He disappeared as soon as he realised it had gone to shit, left his guys to deal."

"Nice leadership skills," noted Clint.

"He was pretty crap all round," said Bucky. "If he'd had anyone who'd been around any time I'd ever been wiped before, they'd have known immediately that something had gone wrong."

"The actual kidnapping was pretty professional," said Clint as they starting working their way down the corridor. The concrete was cold and gritty on his feet and he was really looking forward to wearing shoes again. "But then, that bit was mostly Barney."

Bucky just nodded, moving ahead as they reached a corner and glancing around it, then beckoning Clint on behind him.

They met very little resistance as they headed for the exit. At one point, two agents came running around a corridor, took one look at them and turned on their heels, dashing off again.

Bucky and Clint exchanged amused looks.

_I can hear fighting ahead,_ signed Bucky awkwardly while trying to keep his gun in hand. Clint nodded to show he'd understood. _Sounds like our guys._

Bucky ducked his head around the corner. _Steve and Nat, and a bunch of Hydra with their backs to us._

Clint grinned. _Perfect for an ambush,_ he signed, then had to finger-spell 'ambush', because apparently that one hadn't come up before. He really needed to sit down with Bucky and go over some 'usual on a mission' vocabulary.

Bucky returned his grin, then counted down from three on his fingers. At zero, both he and Clint darted out, guns raised.

There were about seven Hydra agents crouching behind the security desk and trying to hold off Steve and Nat. Bucky and Clint made it most of the way down the corridor towards them before one of them glanced over his shoulder and spotted them. He blanched and nudged his neighbour, swinging his gun around to fire at them.

His aim was pretty poor. One bullet pinged off Bucky's metal arm but the rest flew harmlessly by as Clint and Bucky ducked down and then threw themselves into the fray.

It felt good to finally be getting to hit some of the bastards who had imprisoned him here. Clint might not have had any of his equipment, but that didn't mean he wasn't equal to a fight with a handful of second-rate Hydra stooges. He punched one in the teeth and then slammed his gun over the back of another one's head.

"Hail Hyd-" he saw another one start to shout, bringing his gun up, but Clint didn't let him finish. He punched him hard in the face, knocking him backwards into one of his colleagues, who Bucky had been about to punch out. Bucky held back, then glanced around, and Clint realised they'd taken out all of the agents.

He turned to give at Steve and Natasha his best smug look and got a glare from Nat.

_You're never going anywhere alone ever again,_ she signed, which seemed a little harsh considering that the last time he'd been kidnapped, she'd been with him.

_Are you hurt?_ signed Steve with slow movements.

Clint gave him a grin to show he appreciated the effort. "I'm fine," he said. "Just bruises."

_Far less than you deserve,_ signed Natasha. _What kind of a moron lets himself get kidnapped by the same person twice in the same month?_

Steve snorted. “If I'd known that learning to sign meant getting to watch Nat chew you out,” he said, signing along with the words he knew, “I'd have started lessons years ago.”

“She's just being a mother-hen,” said Clint, and then took two swift steps backwards when it looked like she was going to give up on sign and just rip his head off to get her point across. Man, and she didn't even know that Barney had used a dog to trap Clint yet. That was going to be a fun conversation.

Steve looked at Bucky. “You okay as well?”

"I don't even have bruises," said Bucky with a shrug.

"They tried to wipe him, and it pretty much just bounced off," said Clint, bouncing on his feet with glee. "And then he went all hardcore-fighting-machine on their asses, it was awesome."

Bucky gave him a pleased smile and Clint held his fist out to him to be bumped.

Natasha tapped Clint's arm, attracting his attention as Steve started to say something to Bucky, and handed him a set of his spare aids. Oh man, thank fuck for that. He tucked them in and switched them on, and the world of sound sprung into life around him.

Above them, he could hear the noise of an on-going fight and he glanced up the stairs to the trapdoor that lead to the warehouse. It was open and he could see a blur of movement through it but no details.

"We drew most of them out into the open and left the others to deal with them while we came down after you," said Natasha. "It was surprisingly easy."

"I get the feeling these guys are the dregs of Hydra," agreed Clint.

"We did take out a lot of their best guys a few months ago," said Steve. He glanced up as a particularly loud explosion went off. "Guys, we've secured Clint and Bucky," he said over the comms. "They're not hurt. Do you need assistance up there, or shall we start to sweep the base?"

"Clint ain't doing either," said Bucky immediately. “I'm getting him out of here.”

"Aw, come on, I can help," said Clint.

"Not in a t-shirt with a borrowed gun and no shoes," said Natasha, and Clint sighed, glancing down at himself. Yeah, okay, he wasn't really dressed for combat.

"I could borrow armour from one of those guys," he said, gesturing at the unconscious Hydra agents.

"Doesn't seem like there's any need," said Steve. "Rhodey's saying they've pretty much subdued everyone upstairs."

The noise of gunfire had quietened down and mostly been replaced with shouting, which was usually a good sign that the bad guys had surrendered and were being herded together.

"There wasn't really anyone left inside," said Bucky. "Just stragglers. And Clint's brother. We left him in a cell."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I'll enjoy getting hold of him."

"Aw, hey, no," said Clint. "He kinda helped us out, and he-"

"Seriously?!" interrupted Bucky. "You're defending the guy?"

Clint gave a shrug. "He did it cuz he thought it was the only way to help his soulmate."

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Steve and waved his arms helplessly. "What the hell am I meant to do with him? Fucking idiot would forgive anyone anything if they gave him a good enough sob story."

"Hey!" protested Clint. “No, I wouldn't, I just feel for him, is all.”

Bucky made a frustrated noise, then grabbed Clint's face and kissed him as if he couldn't keep it in any longer. Clint just gripped at his arms and let him.

****

Vision and Wanda came down to help Steve and Natasha sweep the base and Clint and Bucky went upstairs to the warehouse, where Rhodey and Sam had the Hydra agents kneeling in the centre of the floor with their hands behind their heads.

“Hey, man,” called Sam. “Good to see you in one piece.”

Clint grinned at him. “Yeah, not even a concussion. I'm getting pretty good at this being kidnapped thing now.”

Bucky made a frustrated noise. “Not something you should be practising,” he growled.

Clint patted his arm soothingly. “Oh, hey,” he said, running his eyes over the assembled Hydra prisoners. “You got the guy in charge.”

Heath shuffled on his knees and tried to duck his head.

“We did?” asked Sam, glancing around. “None of them seemed like leadership material, frankly.”

“Yeah, they're really not,” said Clint. “Still, that guy,” he said, pointing at Heath, “he's the evil mastermind or whatever.”

Heath's shoulders slumped.

“Huh,” said Sam. “Are you sure? I caught him trying to sneak out the back door.”

The Hydra agent next to Heath turned and gave him a disgusted look. Heath did his best to look as if he couldn't hear anything that was being said.

“Oh yeah,” said Clint. “He said he used to be a SHIELD agent as well, so we've got him on treason or whatever as well as being a general fuckwit.”

Sam eyed Heath. “Awesome. I'll make sure to point him out to the cops when they get here to arrest everyone.”

Heath finally looked up to glare at Clint, who just gave him a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, fuckhead!” called Bucky, reaching out and taking Clint's hand. “Remember what I said about him being my strength? Guess who just got proved right, asshole?”

Heath gritted his teeth but didn't respond.

“He's also thick as pigshit,” Clint added, “but I don't think we can charge him with stupidity in the first degree.”

“I don't think we've got enough prisons for everyone who'd end up on a life sentence for that one,” agreed Rhodey. He glanced down at Clint and Bucky's joined hands. “You sure that's a good idea?”

Bucky shrugged. “They already know and, frankly, their reaction was kinda underwhelming.”

“Better watch out when you go outside,” said Sam. “The media are crawling all over. Taking these fuckers down wasn't exactly subtle.”

Clint groaned. “Oh, how the hell did they get here so quickly?”

Sam shrugged. “It's not exactly out in the sticks. We're right in the middle of Detroit.”

Clint glanced at the doors. “Man, who would have figured that Detroit would be one of the last bastions of these neo-Nazi fuckers,” he said, dryly.

Rhodey snorted. “Better not let the media hear you saying that,” he said. “Gotta love every city as if it was your own, right?”

Clint waved a tired hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I've had a great time in Detroit, entirely failing to see the sights while being locked up in a concrete cube buried underground. I'd like to thank all the people here for being so welcoming.” He glared at the Hydra agents.

“Yeah, you've got it,” said Sam, nodding.

Natasha and Wanda came out of the trapdoor, herding a handful of Hydra agents and Barney.

“We're pretty sure this is the last of them,” said Natasha. “Cap and Vision are doing a last check, but Cap said to let the police in now.”

Rhodey nodded and took off to soar outside to where the police must be waiting.

Clint locked eyes with Barney, who had his hands behind his head but was walking a bit behind the Hydra agents, as if trying to distance himself from them.

“Clint,” he said, nodding at him.

Clint sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. What the fuck was he going to do with this guy?

Bucky's hand tightened around Clint's. “He kidnapped you,” he reminded him a low voice. “Twice. He tortured you.”

“Yeah, but. Really badly. It was kinda pathetic,” said Clint, then shook his head. “Yeah, no, you're right. Just-”

Just, if Bucky were locked up somewhere Clint couldn't get to him, and all he could feel through their link was his pain and despair, who knew what the fuck he'd end up doing if he thought it would help?

Bucky let out a long breath and glared at Barney. “You're a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah, I kinda know that,” said Barney. “Look, Clint. I am sorry about this. I seriously thought it was the only way to help her, and I knew your team would get you back.”

“You didn't know that, you hoped,” said Bucky, taking a step forward.

Clint tightened his grip on Bucky's hand to keep him from moving too far away. “Bucky.”

Bucky turned back to him with a fierce look in his eyes. “If Stark hadn't figured out a way to root out their programming,” he said in a tight undertone. “Or if I'd decided not to go through with it, like Steve wanted me to-”

“Yeah, I know,” said Clint. If Bucky's Winter Soldier programming really had kicked in earlier, then they wouldn't be standing here now, hand-in-hand and mocking Heath for being pathetic. “But Tony did, and you didn't. We were ready for this, and we got through it.” He glanced over at Barney and spoke up so he could hear him. “I guess you're just lucky that my team are a lot more reliable and better at forwarding planning than my family.”

Barney shrugged. “Guess family is only good for letting you down.”

Well, that was depressingly true.

“Doesn't matter now anyway,” said Barney. “At least, not to me. You're gonna lock me up so I won't be able to help her. I don't know how long she can stay trapped like that without any hope of escape without-” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Without doing something drastic,” he finished, miserably.

Aw, man. Clint glanced at Bucky, who was still glaring at Barney, and then across to Natasha, who raised one eyebrow.

“No,” she said, very clearly.

“We've all benefited from a second chance,” he said.

She shook her head. “No,” she said again. “Don't try it, Barton.”

Clint looked back at Barney. “I'll talk to Cap,” he said. “He's pretty understanding.”

Bucky let out a sigh that was practically a groan. “Jesus fucking Christ, Clint. What the fuck?”

“Nothing's getting decided today,” said Sam, with authority. “You, get down with the others.”

Barney walked over to kneel next to the Hydra agents as the police started to pour in, looking unnecessarily tense considering that all the bad guys were already on their knees.

Clint tried to let go of Bucky's hand and take a step back away him, but Bucky kept a tight enough grip to keep him in place. Clint stared at him.

“You wanted everyone to know,” said Bucky as the police circled the prisoners, some of them unable to stop their curious glances over at Clint and Bucky.

“And you didn't,” Clint reminded him.

Bucky shrugged. “I didn't want Hydra to know,” he corrected. “Looks like that ship has sailed, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”

Clint looked down at their joined hands and smiled. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and then couldn't stop himself from stepping forward to kiss Bucky. A thought occurred to him. “Hey, want to go talk to the media?”

“You know,” said Bucky, very slowly, “I really kinda do. Huh, never thought I'd say that.”

Clint glanced at Natasha. “Hey, we're going to head out to the quinjet. Tell Cap we've got the PR covered, yeah?”

Natasha gave him a long-suffering look that was achingly familiar. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Nah,” said Clint. “But then, which of my ideas have ever been good?”

She tipped her head in acknowledgement of that, then got the distracted look that meant she was listening to something over the comms. "Cap says not to mention the chair to the press. Just keep it to Hydra kidnapping you and us all sweeping in for a rescue. No details."

Clint nodded.

"And if you want to take the quinjet and go back to base afterwards, go ahead. Fury's guys are coming out to take custody of these guys, so we can catch a lift back with them."

Clint grinned. "Awesome, we get to skip out early." He bounced on his heels and glanced at Bucky. "That means we can be having sex while these idiots are still playing cops and robbers."

Sam let out a long sigh. "Oh man, do you have to?"

"Yep," said Bucky, giving him a shit-eating grin. "We really do have to do exactly that. Several times. In a number of different positions."

Sam let out a groan that only made Bucky's smirk grow wider. Clint had a feeling that this was some kind of payback for when Bucky had been living in the room next door to Steve and Sam's bedroom. Well, he was all up for helping with that kind of payback.

"Clint," said Natasha, and nodded her head to one side. Clint let go of Bucky's hand to move to one side with her, out of earshot of the prisoners and police.

"Be careful when you enter the quinjet,” she said quietly. “Bruce is onboard, and it would be best if no one caught sight of him."

Clint blinked at her. "Bruce? What's he doing here?"

She just gave him a small, secretive smile. "You'll have to ask him that."

He took a careful look at her. There was a slant to her shoulders that indicated she'd shifted a weight off them that she'd been carrying for a while, and her smile held a faint aura of relief. Clint wondered just how worried she'd been about Bruce's hermit act, because of course she'd only give a faint hint of it once she'd decided there was no need any more.

He gave her elbow a squeeze. "Okay, we'll keep him a secret for you."

He and Bucky walked out of the warehouse into the fading light of the early evening and were immediately met by a wave of shouting from the handful of reporters gathered at the police barrier about two hundred metres away. Above them, a helicopter thundered over with a camera and a spotlight. 

Clint glanced up, then gave it a little wave. "You sure about this?" he asked Bucky.

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, why not?"

He was starting to sound uncertain so Clint didn't take his hand again as they walked towards the gaggle of cameras. The ground outside the warehouse was pretty rough, mostly beaten earth with the occasional stone or miserable looking clump of grass. Clint did his best to ignore the feel of it under his bare feet.

"Remember," he said quietly, "if they ask anything you don't want to answer, just ignore it."

Bucky nodded as they got close enough to actually hear what was being shouted at them.

"Clint! Clint! What brings you to Detroit?"

"Hawkeye, is it true you've been fighting Hydra today?"

"Where's your bow, Hawkeye? And your shoes?"

Rather fewer of them called out to Bucky.

"Winter Soldier, what do you have to say to Congressman Taylor's claims that you should be taken in for psychological evaluation?" asked one particularly brave reporter. Clint was very impressed when Bucky didn't react with more than a blank stare.

They stopped just the other side of the temporary barrier and Clint pinned on his best media smile. Time to channel his inner Tony Stark.

Aw man, now he was picturing a tiny Tony living inside his head, and that was disturbing as hell.

"Hey guys, give me a bit of quiet for a moment and I'll run through what happened here for you," he said, and the reporters all went obligingly silent, holding microphones out towards him.

"Thank you. Okay, so, what we've got here is a cell that's a remnant of Hydra. They kidnapped me earlier today-"

There was a flurry of flashing cameras at that and the start of some questions, but Clint just raised his voice and rode over the top of them until they shut up.

"-in an effort to coerce my soulmate into criminal acts-"

The flashes became even more furious and the nearest reporter went a strange red colour, as if he were holding his breath to keep himself from shouting out and interrupting Clint.

"-but as you can see, what actually happened was that the Avengers arrived, rescued me, and have arrested all the Hydra agents," finished Clint. "Because we're awesome and Hydra sucks."

Bucky snorted and Clint glanced at him to see he was ducking his head to hide a self-satisfied smile behind his hair.

"Are you hurt at all, Hawkeye?" called out a reporter.

"Do I look hurt?" asked Clint, glancing down at himself. "Nah, I'm fine. A couple of bruises, but nothing I wouldn't have got sparring with one of the guys. They stole my clothes and gave me this shit instead, which is irritating because I was wearing one of my favourite shirts, but-"

"We have your clothes," interrupted Bucky. "We retrieved them before we got here. They're on the quinjet."

Clint beamed at him. "Awesome! You're the best." He knocked his shoulder against Bucky's and turned his grin on the reporters. "So, apparently I'm not even down a t-shirt on this one."

"You said they wanted to use you against your soulmate," said another reporter. "Can you tell us who that is?"

Clint very carefully didn't turn to Bucky. Instead, he just paused as if thinking, waiting to see what Bucky wanted to do.

Bucky's hand reached out and took Clint's. "I'da thought that was obvious by now."

Yeah, at least one of the reporters was definitely going to have an aneurysm, thought Clint as they all went nuts. He pinned on a smile, squeezed Bucky's hand, and waited for them all to shut up and calm down.

It took a while.

"Okay!" he called, eventually, "you really are going to have to ask one question at a time. These are my back-up hearing aids and they don't separate out sound too well. I can't hear a thing when you all talk at once."

That managed to get them to shut up enough for him to hear a question.

"What's made you decide to announce this now?"

Bucky pressed Clint's hand and answered for them both. "Worse case scenario already happened. I'da been shouting it from a rooftop months ago but I knew Hydra, and maybe other bad guys, would want to take advantage of it. Now they apparently know, I guess I finally get to start shouting."

"Which also means I get to finally defend Bucky from all the bull that people have been spouting about him," added Clint. "Including Congressman Tyler-"

"Taylor," corrected one of the reporters.

"Right, okay," said Clint. "Whoever. He doesn't know Bucky, he's never met him, he hasn't got a clue. There's absolutely nothing wrong with him, he's not a danger to anyone except super-villains and guys who want to hurt me."

"Or Steve," added Bucky, and gave the cameras a bland smile. "Or, really, any of the team. But I figure that's true of all of us."

"Oh yeah," said Clint. "You've got to have your team's back, right? And, you know, smash in the skull of anyone trying to shoot your soulmate." He kept on his media-friendly smile, all through the awkward pause that followed that.

Reporters never stay quiet for long, though.

"How long since you activated?"

"How did you activate?"

"Did the rest of the team know?"

"You know," said Clint, slowly. "This was just meant to be about this incident." He waved his hand at the warehouse.

The reporters all took on a look of terror that their scoop was about to be pulled away from them. Clint was pretty sure that if he pushed it, he could make at least two of them cry.

He probably shouldn't, though. He was meant to be one of the good guys.

"What happened to wanting to shout it from the rooftops?" asked one of them with faint desperation.

Clint gave her a grin. "I guess we could get Rhodey and Sam to give us a lift up there," he said, glancing at the roof of the nearest warehouse. "You'd probably hear us better down here, though." He bounced on his toes. "Okay, we activated a few months ago during an Avengers film night, so pretty much everyone knew from the beginning just because they were there. Can't remember exactly how long ago that was-"

"164 days," put in Bucky, and Clint turned to stare at him.

"How the hell do you know that?"

Bucky shrugged. "I like counting days since stuff." His voice went quiet. "It's nice not having any gaps."

Clint immediately resolved to buy him a calendar so he could cross off each day as it went by without him being cryogenically frozen and missing whole years. Would a sign saying 'It's Been X Days Since An Avenger Got Brainwashed' be going too far?

Yeah, probably.

Bucky cleared his throat and turned to the reporters. "As for how we activated- Well. Clint fell on me."

"Oh come on, that's hardly fair," protested Clint. “That was just the surprise.”

"How did you react once you'd got over the surprise?" asked another reporter, which was a pretty stupid question in Clint's opinion.

"How does anyone react? Happiness, excitement," climbing up to the roof to have a mental breakdown, "that sort of thing," he said.

"Yeah, same," said Bucky. "Plus, you know. I watched a couple of Robin Hood films so I could try and work out why anyone would use archaic weaponry when they could get their hands on Starktech."

"It's not archaic, it's _classic_ ," said Clint automatically, and then frowned. "Wait, you did? Which ones?"

"Uh," said Bucky. "Just the first ones that came up on Netflix. One with a lot of singing, and one with a fox."

Clint sniggered. "In order to work out what to do with an archer soulmate, you watched a Disney film and _Men In Tights_? No wonder you seemed so confused." He patted Bucky's arm. "Don't worry, I've got this. We'll sit down with the proper classics and get you educated."

"Should we ask which ones you consider to be the proper classics?" asked a reporter.

Clint shrugged. "To be fair, the Disney one is pretty much up there." He glanced at Bucky and tipped his head in the direction of the quinjet, and got a nod in return. "Okay," he said. "We're gonna head out. Hydra made me skip lunch, so I'm getting kinda hungry."

"Just one last thing," said Bucky, turning to face the nearest camera dead on and taking a step closer. "I just want to make it very, very clear that hurting Clint to get at me is a really bad plan. A fist through the brain is the very least of the things I'll do to anyone who so much as lays a finger on him. I've got decades of experience with making people hurt, don't test me."

He finished his little speech with a dark glower directly at the camera, and Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Steve was going to kill them.

"Okay, great," he said, grabbing Bucky's wrist and tugging him away. "Thanks, guys." He gave a final wave and dragged Bucky off as fast as he could without making it look like a retreat.

"When Steve kills you, I'm just gonna stand back and watch," he said as they went.

Bucky shrugged. "You think he'll get to me before Erika?"

"Aw man," whined Clint. He hadn't even stopped to consider Erika.

Bucky slung his arm around Clint's shoulders. "It had to be said. Can't go having other Hydra cells unaware of just how painful it's gonna be to repeat this plan."

There wasn't much Clint could say to that, so he let it go. It wasn't as if Bucky wasn't going to catch enough shit from various people for it.

Keeping in mind what Natasha had said about Bruce, Clint gave a couple of knocks on the quinjet door before opening it.

Bruce was settled in the pilot's seat, out of sight of the open door. He gave Clint a grin.

“Hey man, good to see you in one piece.”

Clint threw off a salute at him. “Always,” he said, cheerfully. “No way Hydra are going to put a dent in the amazing Hawkeye.”

“Right,” said Bruce sceptically, before glancing at Bucky. “And you're still, uh. You?”

“Oh yeah,” said Bucky, shutting the quinjet door. “Barely even a glitch.”

“Because he's awesome,” said Clint, turning to the back to rummage amongst the emergency supplies for some kind of snack. Now that the danger had passed, the fact that he hadn't eaten since breakfast was really starting to kick in.

Bucky snorted. “You're in an amazingly good mood for someone who spent most of the day kidnapped.”

“I'm in exactly the right mood for someone who just got rescued without suffering more than bruises, and whose soulmate turned out to be badass enough to throw off decades of mind-control,” said Clint. Aha! Granola bars. He'd known they had some tucked away. He pulled one out, then reconsidered and just grabbed the whole box, heading back up towards the seats at the front. “So, Bruciekins, what're you doing here? Tasha talk you into a fieldtrip?”

“Please don't call me that,” said Bruce, but Clint could tell from the tone of his voice that he didn't really mean it. Or, well, that was his story, anyway. “I was- well. I was with Natasha when she got Bucky's call about you not being at the farm, and there didn't seem much point in not coming along to the briefing.”

“You had a briefing for me?” asked Clint, around a mouthful of granola. “Did you have a giant mugshot of me up on screen for it? Which one did you use? Please say it wasn't the one from my SHIELD file, I look like a zombie in that one.”

Bucky had swapped seats with Bruce and was running through the pre-take-off checks, but he turned to give Clint a dark glare. “We didn't exactly have time to set up a Powerpoint presentation.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” said Clint, defensively holding up the hand that wasn't stuffing a granola bar down his throat.

“We didn't get that far through the briefing,” said Bruce. “The video Hydra sent came in halfway through.”

Bucky made an inarticulate growling noise, but didn't turn away from starting the quinjet up.

“And, uh,” said Bruce, quietly, “I guess I was reminded that I'm not the only one with a monster inside that they don't want getting out, but that sometimes the consequences to keeping it locked up are worse than letting it off the leash.”

There was a silence, during which Bucky resolutely continued take-off, putting the quinjet in the air and on a course back towards the base as if he didn't know that Clint's eyes were on his back, noting the tension in his hands as he clung on to the steering column.

“I guess we've all got our demons,” said Clint, just to break the moment. He offered the box to Bruce. “Granola bar?”

Bruce snorted, but took one. “Sure. Don't eat too many of those. I'm thinking about starting on dinner for everyone when we get back.”

Clint grinned at him. “Oh man, one of your kick-ass curries? Please say yes. I haven't had one of those in ages.”

Bruce had used to cook for the team fairly regularly, back when they were all still living in Stark Tower. About once a week he'd lose his temper at how bad everyone's diet was -well, everyone except Steve's- and insist on cooking a hot meal for everyone, turning a fierce glare on anyone who tried to duck out.

Not that anyone had really tried all that hard. Bruce's cooking was awesome.

“Sure, if we have all the ingredients,” said Bruce.

Clint laughed. “Are you kidding? Of course we do. We've had them all stocked since you moved the the base. Everyone loves your curry.”

“Oh,” said Bruce, sounding surprised, although Clint didn't know why.

Except, Bruce hadn't come to any communal meals, or team movie nights, or let himself be part of the group at all. Maybe he hadn't realised that there was a space for him whenever he wanted to step into it.

“The others will probably be a couple of hours,” said Bucky. “They need to wait for SHIELD and then debrief.”

Bruce nodded. “That's fine. I'll have it ready for when they get back.”

“Awesome,” said Clint, with great satisfaction.

****

The moment the door of their suite was shut behind them, Bucky had Clint in his arms, tucking his face into Clint's neck and just holding on. Clint clung back just as tightly, letting the familiarity of their sitting room settle in around them. God, it was great to be home, even if it was barely over a day since he'd last been here.

“You fucking asshole,” said Bucky, when he finally pulled back. “I was so fucking scared I wouldn't get this again.”

Clint stroked a hand through his hair. “Nah,” he said. “C'mon. I'm way harder to get rid of than that.”

“We came seriously close to it today,” said Bucky.

“No, hey, come on,” said Clint, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Don't do that. We got out of it with nothing but bruises, all the bad guys are in custody, and Bruce is making dinner. And you never have to fear their chair again.”

Bucky took a very deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, true.” His forehead creased as he gave Clint a hard look. “Don't think I didn't hear those words, by the way. _Raccoon_ , seriously? I thought you were going to go with 'farm'.”

“Yeah, I lied,” said Clint shamelessly. “I figured 'farm' was too easily guessed by anyone who does a bit of research into me.”

“We're going to have some serious words about it,” said Bucky. “Just as soon as I've had a chance to get over how scared I was.”

“That sounds like fun,” said Clint, pulling away from him. “Let me know when that's gonna be and I'll make sure to wear my _Team Winter Raccoon_ shirt for it.”

Bucky let out a long sigh and ran both hands through his hair. “I really fucking hate Tony Stark,” he announced to the room in general.

“Yep,” said Clint, patting at his chest. “I'm gonna have a shower, okay? And then maybe burn these clothes.”

Bucky eyed them and nodded. “I'll help with that.”

Clint pulled the t-shirt over his head and threw it aside, then looked back over his shoulder with a smirk as he headed towards the bathroom. “I'm really hoping you're talking about the shower.”

Bucky blinked as if the idea hadn't occurred to him, then grabbed the edge of his own t-shirt and started to pull it off as he followed him. “Wouldn't want you to have to cope with the soap all on your own.”

They ended up in bed after the shower, which wasn't a complete shock given what had happened _in_ the shower. 

It was exactly what Clint needed after the fear of the day: Bucky under his hands, naked and clean and smiling at Clint as they moved together, his hands sweeping all over Clint as if he still needed to check he was in one piece.

Their distraction meant that neither of them answered their phones when Erika tried to call them. It was nearly an hour before they were even in a state to read the matching texts she'd sent them.

_A head's up would have been nice. You're just lucky it seems to be working out pretty well for us. We're going to have words about using the media to broadcast threats, though._

“Does that mean that the media approve of us?” asked Bucky.

Clint shrugged. “I guess.”

“Huh,” said Bucky.

Clint rolled over to brace himself above Bucky. “What's that noise for?”

Bucky just shrugged, hands coming up to bracket Clint's hips. “I don't know. Just. I figured people wouldn't approve of you having someone like me for a soulmate. You've got a lot of fans, you know.”

Clint stared at him, then leaned down to kiss the look off his face. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “You better be kidding. You're my _soulmate_. What kind of a moron is going to think that anyone could possibly be any better for me?”

“Have you seen the internet?” asked Bucky. “There are a lot of morons out there.”

“And none of them matter,” said Clint, kissing him again, lowering his body so that it was pressed against Bucky's. “I didn't want to tell everyone so that they could approve, I wanted to tell them so that we could stop hiding. And now we can. Their opinions matter jackshit.”

“Okay,” said Bucky, running his hands down to Clint's ass. “I guess I can go with that.”

“You better,” said Clint, and abandoned the conversation in favour of kissing Bucky properly, long and slow and hopefully saying everything for him that he never seemed to be able to find words for. And if Bucky still wasn't getting it, well, that was why Clint was tracing his finger across Bucky's skin to his print, pressing against it and letting his full feelings for Bucky flow into him, all his love and admiration and desire filling him up until he _got it_.

“God,” muttered Bucky against Clint's lips. “Yeah. Clint.” He took one of his hands off Clint's ass and moved it up to his arm, finding Clint's print with his finger without even looking. His love and admiration started to fill up Clint's mind, making him gasp and shut his eyes so that he could feel it better. There was a hefty dose of gratitude mixed in with it, although whether Bucky was grateful towards Clint or for him, he couldn't tell. He didn't really care, he just kissed Bucky again and gave into the feelings running between them.

****

They finally pulled themselves out of bed and into clothes when it was time for dinner, although if it had been anything less than Bruce's curry, Clint wasn't sure he'd have bothered. Except, of course, Bucky would probably have made him get up and eat something, because apparently a box of granola bars wasn't enough.

As if the guy with the super-soldier metabolism should be making those kinds of decisions for the normal guy.

Having the whole team around the table including Bruce was pretty nice, especially as they were all relaxed and smiling after the success of taking down the Hydra base. Natasha sat next to Bruce and looked just like she always did, but Clint knew her well enough to see just how pleased she was that he'd taken this step.

“I can't believe you guys actually came out to the press,” said Rhodey to Clint.

Clint shrugged. “I took a leaf out of your book, and did something Tony thought was a good idea.”

Rhodey raised both eyebrows. “Wow. That has to be his one annual good idea that is _actually_ a good idea.”

“Nah,” said Bucky, reaching for more naan bread. “That was when he managed to decommission my brainwashing.”

Rhodey nodded in acknowledgement of that. “Wait, does that mean he managed two good ideas in the same year? I'll have to tell Pepper, she'll be so proud of him.”

Wanda wolfed down half her plateful of curry and then started checking through the reaction to Bucky and Clint's interview on social media. “Well, you're trending again,” she said. “This time it's both of you, on pretty much every site I can find.”

“And the rest of us?” asked Sam.

She shrugged. “I guess we're getting reflected glory.”

“Glory?” asked Steve. “So the coverage is favourable?”

“Mostly,” she said. "There are a few bits about how this proves that Clint is, uh-”

“Notorious?” suggested Bucky, sending Clint a smirk.

“Yeah,” said Wanda, “but there are also lots of people saying that if their soulmate was about to be shot and they had a metal arm they'd probably do the same as Bucky did, a couple of articles about why they work so well together -most of them wrong because they don't realise what assholes you both are- and just a lot of people being happy for them, really. Some of them are a bit creepy about it, actually."

Bucky frowned. "Creepy how?"

"Don't answer that," said Clint, quickly. "Bucky, seriously. Never ask about how creepy the internet can get."

"There's a lot of people who seem to want to watch the two of you having sex," said Wanda. "Uh, and a couple who are theorising on what kind of sex that would be, and wow, I don't think I'm old enough to have read that. In fact, I don't think I'll ever be old enough."

Bucky frowned, then glanced at Clint, who just shrugged at him. "I warned you."

“So, what?” asked Sam. “Is that our PR problem solved, then?”

Wanda shook her head. “There's a lot of commentary on Bucky's threat against anyone who wants to hurt Clint. Not all of them are understanding.”

“I really wish you hadn't done that,” said Steve to Bucky.

“What the hell else would I have done?” said Bucky. “If we're telling the world about this, then I'm making it very clear that there are consequences to fucking with it.”

Natasha shook her head. “There are consequences with fucking with any of us,” she said in a hard voice.

“Hey, Sam,” said Rhodey. “Remember when you used to have friends who didn't sit around chatting how they'd mutilate anyone who'd hurt you?”

Sam snorted. “I definitely remember when I didn't always feel like the most well-adjusted person in the room.”

“Oh well, I was friends with Tony,” said Rhodey with a shrug. “I felt like that a lot.”

“This will only be a temporary PR fix, unless we can capitalise on it,” said Natasha. She fixed Clint with a stare. “As our resident known soulmates, you'll have to be adorable in public for a bit. Humanise Bucky and the rest of the team by extension, get people thinking of us as real people rather than either heroes or villains.”

Clint grinned. “I reckon we can be adorable,” he said, glancing at Bucky. “What do you think, Schnookums? For the greater good?”

Bucky gave him a very serious look. “I think I can manage that, Honey Bunny.”

Rhodey made a face. “Ugh, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

Clint just shook his head at him. “You're just an enemy of true love,” he said sadly, taking Bucky's hand.

“Does this mean that Sam and Steve should announce their link?” asked Vision. “Or Natasha and Bruce?”

“No,” said Bruce and Natasha at the same time, and then glanced at each other with tiny, sideways smiles.

“I don't think that's necessary,” said Steve. “Clint and Bucky's situation was a bit different. Everyone already knew that Clint had activated, after all.”

“Me and Steve, we're fine as we are,” said Sam. “No one's going to suspect us, not with Steve on record as having found and lost his soulmate in the '40s.”

“I see,” said Vision, in a tone of voice that meant he didn't. Clint caught him glancing at Wanda, who gave him a look that clearly said she was going to explain it to him later.

Clint squeezed Bucky's hand. “I've actually got an idea for us being adorable on camera,” he said. “If you're up for it. It involves shouting from the rooftops. Well, sorta.”

Bucky smiled at him. “That already sounds great.”

“Don't forget the documentary they're coming to shoot for the five year anniversary,” said Steve. “You two can be a big part of that now. I hear films work better with a romantic subplot.”

Clint groaned, lowering his head to knock against the table. He'd been planning to pretty much just fade into the background for that, but apparently his days of being an indistinguishable back-up Avenger were over.

“The Avengers: The team that brought together two soulmates separated by seven decades,” said Wanda. “Yeah, that would probably work out for us on Twitter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one last chapter to go, which is 90% schmoop, I'm not gonna lie.


	10. Chapter 10

The Youtube video opened on Clint's face, then pulled back to reveal he was standing in the middle of a helipad, somewhere high above New York. There was no sound and he started signing instead of talking, subtitles running across the bottom of the screen to translate.

_Today's Archery Is Awesome video comes right from the top of Stark Tower, where the wind is bad enough for the camera's mic to be pretty much useless. Check out the view though, totally worth it._

There was a wobbly pan around at the nearest landmarks, then the camera focused back on Clint.

_Today, I'm going to be showing off my incredible skills of shooting arrows in high winds. I know, not as iconic or flashy as apples on heads, but trust me when I say it's a hell of a lot harder. And I've got myself a gorgeous assistant for it, which I'm super excited about._

He bounced on his heels as he gestured off-camera. There was a pause and he gestured again, then the camera settled slightly and Bucky stepped into frame, frowning.

_You said I'd just be holding the camera._

_I lied,_ Clint signed back, cheerfully. _Why do you think we brought the tripod? I need you to go stand over there._ He pointed off towards the edge of the helipad. _Just on the edge of the circle, level with the top of the H._

Bucky glanced over, then back at Clint. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. _If you put an arrow in me-_

Clint rolled his eyes dramatically. _As if I would. Come on, show some trust for your soulmate._

The suspicion didn't clear off Bucky's face, but he did turn and head over to where Clint had indicated. Clint turned back to the camera with a grin.

_See, in high wind situations, what you really need is some kind of weathervane. A bit of fabric or tall reeds or, well, or a super-soldier's hair, if you have access to it._

He gestured over at where Bucky was now standing with his arms folded, glowering into the wind as his hair blew out behind him.

_I've observed his hair under a lot of different conditions. I know exactly how much wind there is just from watching it and, you know, there's the bonus of how hot he looks with it all streaming out like that._

Clint gave the camera a thumbs up, then picked his bow up from somewhere below the frame.

_I'm going to nail three bullseyes. Three, just to make sure you know this isn't a fluke and I'm actually just this awesome. But first I'm going to take a shot as if there were no wind, just straight at the target, so you can see what a difference it makes to how an arrow flies._

He turned away from the camera, taking a couple of steps that revealed an archery target behind him, set up on the other side of the helipad. He set an arrow to his bow and aimed straight at it, pulling back and letting go with barely a split-second to aim.

The arrow was blown off course almost immediately, curving away from the target and looking like it was going to go straight out over the edge of the building. It curved further away, looping around, and suddenly was passing less than a foot in front of Bucky.

Bucky's metal arm darted out and plucked it from the air, and then he turned and sent a black look at Clint, even as Clint let out what looked like a heartfelt cheer and waved his arms above his head.

He slung his bow over a shoulder long enough to sign, _You're the best._

Bucky tucked the arrow away in his belt and signed back. _Asshole. You're not getting this arrow back now._

Clint waved that off and pulled another out of his quiver, then lined up another shot, this time pointing far to the right of the target.

The arrow curved around beautifully, hitting the target dead centre. Clint gave a little victory dance, then pulled another two arrows out of his quiver. He held them up with a grin, then notched them both at the same time. He gave the camera a nod, as if to say, _Oh yeah, I'm doing this,_ then turned back to the target.

It took a bit longer before he let them loose this time, obviously concentrating hard on getting it right. They curved around in perfect synch, hitting the target right next to the arrow already buried in it.

Clint punched a fist in the air and turned to Bucky, who was applauding and grinning back at him. _Incredible,_ he signed. _But we're still going to have long words about you putting me right in the place to grab that arrow. You knew exactly where it would fly._

Clint shrugged that off. _Couldn't have it going off the edge of the building. Might have hurt someone. Safety first, Bucky._

Before Bucky could respond, his head twitched around to look off-camera, and a moment later Clint followed his gaze.

Tony came in from the side, saying something that involved big gestures and an exasperated look.

 _Can't hear you,_ signed Clint, clearly saying it at the same time. _I turned my aids off because of the wind._

Tony threw his hands up and then turned to Bucky. As he started to talk, Bucky translated for him.

_He wants to know what the hell we're doing on his roof. Clint, didn't you tell him we were coming?_

_Nope,_ replied Clint. _Point out that not only did I used to live here, but I still have a room, and he used to say 'my tower is your tower' pretty much daily._

When Bucky translated that for Tony, they both got very irritated looks.

 _Apparently we triggered an intruder alarm and he nearly had security take us down,_ signed Bucky.

Clint snorted. _Yeah, like that would have happened. Oh hey, ask him if he wants to get a suit out and play clay pigeon for this video._

Tony paused when Bucky repeated that, then glanced over at the camera. _He says he doesn't have any suits anymore,_ said Bucky, then gave Clint a look that made Clint snigger.

 _Okay, sure,_ he signed back. _Guess he doesn't get to be part of our cool superhero video series, then._

There was a pause. Tony looked back at the camera, then at Clint's bow. A slow grin spread over his face.

The video cut out.

When it came back, it was focused on a robot that was basically just an arm on wheels. Tony was crouched beside it, looking as if he were explaining something to it.

The camera pulled back to show Clint stretching near-by, bow in hand. He glanced at the person behind the camera. _Get your gun out, we'll make it a competition._

Bucky settled the camera on the tripod and emerged from out of frame, walking towards him.

 _Are you prepared to be utterly defeated?_ he signed, and then pulled a gun out from under his hoodie.

Clint just grinned at him. _Bring it, hotshot._

Tony straightened up from his robot and turned to them, spreading his arms like a talkshow host. Bucky tucked his gun away again so that he could use both hands to translate.

_He's saying that we take it in turns to shoot and the first to miss loses. He's going to be judge, but I'm not sure I trust his sense of fairness and decency._

Clint grinned. _Don't be silly, how on earth could an international businessman be anything other than scrupulously honest?_

Tony waved his hand to get their attention, then held up a coin. _You call it,_ signed Clint.

Bucky nodded. Tony flipped the coin, nearly missing the catch when a burst of wind blew it off course. There was a pause as they all looked at it, then Clint backed away, nodding.

_I'm going first._

He moved right out into the centre of the helipad and Bucky followed him, gun hanging in his hand at his side as Clint lined up and then nodded at Tony.

Tony gave his robot a thumbs up and it grabbed what looked like a dinner plate from a basket and flung it into the air.

Clint fired an arrow straight off, shattering the plate, even as the robot threw the next one up. Bucky's gun came up, firing a shot that disintegrated the next plate.

The next two minutes of the video became a rhythm. Plate went up, arrow brought it down. Plate went up, bullet shattered it. Plate went up, arrow brought it down. Eventually it faded to black, then came back up on a very similar shot, only with more shards of crockery scattered over the helipad and a subtitle reading _Fifteen minutes later._

Clint had apparently got bored enough to start on trick shots, which meant he shattered one plate with his bow behind his back and then another lying flat on his back.

Bucky shook his hair out of his eyes and swapped hands to shoot with his metal hand, signing _show off_ between shots.

The camera faded black again.

_Half an hour later._

Tony was slumped on the ground next to his robot, head tipped against the wall as he played with his phone. Clint was trying to distract Bucky by flexing his biceps at him every time it was Bucky's turn to shoot. Bucky retaliated by just pulling his top off, t-shirt and hoodie both going at once and leaving him shirtless.

Clint paused, stuck staring for almost long enough to let a plate crash down to the ground intact. He fired at the very last moment, not looking away from Bucky's abs as the plate shattered.

_An hour later._

Tony must have run out of plates at some point, because the robot was now throwing bowls. Both Clint and Bucky were now shirtless and had given up on fancy tricks in favour of shooting efficient, accurate shots of the kind that mean they were getting weary, but could probably still go on for a good long time. There was still not a hint of either of them being close to missing.

Tony appeared to be asleep.

_Seventy-three minutes later._

Tony jerked awake with flail. The robot paused throwing and both Bucky and Clint stopped aiming at the sky in order to turn and stare off camera.

Pepper Potts walked into shot, arms flailing as she gestured at the heaps of shattered porcelain that now covered the helipad, the robot that was hanging its arm down as if ashamed, and Tony, who had stumbled to his feet as he held his hands out placatingly.

Clint and Bucky exchanged glances.

 _Time for a quick getaway,_ signed Clint.

 _You get the quinjet warmed up, I'll grab the camera,_ replied Bucky.

They grabbed their shirts and weapons up and then Clint sprinted off as Bucky jogged towards the camera. A moment later, everything went black.

****

“Clinton Francis Barton,” said Erika when Clint picked up the phone. It sounded wrong and it took Clint a moment to realise that was because she sounded impressed rather than pissed. He hadn't heard his full name from someone who wasn't spitting with rage in.....well, ever, probably.

“Who the hell would have guess that you'd turn out to be my golden boy?”

“Anyone who's met me?” he suggested. “I mean, I am pretty incredible.”

He was at the kitchen table with Natasha, getting a post-sparring breakfast. She snorted with derision, but he ignored her. What did she know? It wasn't like she'd known him incredibly well for a good long time or anything.

“You know what, I'm even happy enough to let that one go,” said Erika. “Your stupid Youtube videos are pretty much everything I've wanted from you guys for years, you realise. All you guiys have ever given me was stilted soundbites and so little personality, god! I swear, I thought I was going to have to sneak secret cameras into one of your team dinners to get anywhere close to you lot actually coming across as real people.”

“God, don't do that,” said Clint. “Pretty sure that would just make the whole country hate us. Not to mention the likely retribution from certain members of the team for having their privacy invaded.”

Natasha spread peanut butter on her toast in a manner that very clearly said she was thinking about gutting someone.

Well, okay, maybe not _clearly_ , but Clint knew her well enough to read the subtext in her food preparation.

“It's fine, I've got that crew coming to film the documentary, I'm sure they'll manage to do something. You, though, you just keep doing what you're doing. And get Barnes to do the same, as long as he's just the grumpy dork who's stupidly in love with his soulmate, we should be able to rebuild his public profile.”

“Awesome,” said Clint. Who'd have guessed that the key to saving Bucky from the media was for Clint to just be himself in public? This was going to be the easiest fix ever. Even easier than when they stopped that super-powered alien toddler from destroying Los Angeles by getting him an ice cream.

“Hang up the phone, Agent Barton,” said an ominous voice, and Clint twisted to look over his shoulder.

Fury and Hill had both appeared in the doorway, both of them looking pissed.

Ah. Yeah, okay.

“Sorry, Erika, I've got to go,” he said. “Talk to you later.” He hung up and set the phone on the table, ignoring Natasha's glance between Fury and Clint, clearly trying to work out what was going on.

“Hey, Fury,” said Clint, turning his chair so that he didn't have his back to him. “How's it going? Is that a new eyepatch? Very suave.”

Fury's glare did not diminish one iota. Hill's actually got worse.

“An interesting thing happened last night,” said Fury. “ _Someone_ sprung your brother from my cells. Someone who had the Avenger security codes.”

Clint widened his eyes. “Oh man, really? How the hell did they get those?” He turned back to Natasha, who was also now giving him a glare. “Hey, Nat, we're gonna have to change all our codes.”

“You absolute _idiot_ ,” she hissed.

Clint waited a beat, then sucked in a breath of shock. “Oh, you can't possibly think it was me?!” he said, glancing from her and then back to Fury and Hill. “I'm an Avenger! I helped bring him in!”

“You're fooling no one,” growled Fury.

“What's going on?” asked Bucky from the corridor. Oh good, and Steve was with him so it looked like Clint was going to get glares from everyone who was sorta maybe his boss at once.

Bucky pushed past Fury and Hill and greeted Clint with a kiss. He was still sweaty from his run but that wasn't enough to stop Clint sliding an arm around his waist. Actually, it might even have been an enticement.

Clint widened his eyes into his best innocent expression. “barney escaped, and they think I had something to do with it. As if I'd do such a thing!”

Steve let out a very long sigh. “Oh, Clint,” he said, slowly shaking his head.

The very corner of Bucky's mouth twitched up for a split-second but when he turned to Fury his expression was back to a cold glare. “If Clint said he didn't do it, he didn't.”

Hill glared at him. “Alibis provided by soulmates are inadmissible in a court of law, as I'm sure you're aware.”

“You're an idiot if you think I'd go along with Clint letting that bastard free,” said Bucky and, wow, he was so much better at lying than Clint was. “He kidnapped my soulmate. Twice. And then sold him to Hydra. He's lucky I didn't break in there and rough him up a bit.”

Steve made a quiet noise that made Clint think that maybe Bucky wasn't such a good liar if you'd known him since the '20s, but he just walked over to the fridge and pulled out some juice without saying anything.

Fury gave Bucky a long, assessing look, then looked back at Clint. “You're damned lucky you're not one of my agents any more, Barton.”

Clint tipped a salute at him and grinned, and then Fury and Hill left.

Okay, so, that had gone much easier than he'd thought it would.

“What are you going to do when he gets caught again?” asked Natasha.

Clint moved his chair back to the table so he could continue his breakfast. “Who said he was going to get caught?”

She snorted. “He's looking for a massive pay-off as quickly as possible, and not being careful about how he gets it,” she pointed out. “He'll be caught.”

“Maybe,” said Clint, with a shrug. “Maybe, hypothetically, someone told him where the secret bunker where Hydra keep their money is, and he's just going to clean them out instead. Which would also help us, because if we thought Heath's lot were pathetic, imagine how much more pathetic the next lot are going to be once they can't even afford the nice weaponry and fancy uniforms.”

Steve turned back to look at Bucky. “You know where Hydra keep their money?”

Bucky shrugged, falling into the chair next to Clint's and then stealing his toast, the asshole. “Hypothetically,” he said, and grinned.

That shit-eating grin on Bucky's face was worth every hour Clint had spent talking him around to helping him spring Barney. He leaned over and kissed him, toast crumbs be damned.

****

Steve made them tidy the whole of their living quarters the day before the documentary crew were due.

"There are weapons everywhere," he pointed out. "It looks like a serial killer's den."

"You're over-reacting," said Natasha. "It looks fine."

Sam cleared his throat. "I can see four weapons from here. You may not be the best judge of 'fine', Natasha."

She glared at him. "Everything in here could be a weapon," she snapped, but grabbed up the handful of knives she'd left out on a coffee table and strode off to her room.

Clint discovered that he'd left arrows just about everywhere, although he wasn't quite sure how, and then he and Bucky had to help Sam move out of Steve's suite into one of the spare rooms and make it look as if he'd been living there longer than about five minutes.

"We could pretend that we've just got one massive bed and have orgies every night," suggested Clint.

"Tony wouldn't have left if that was true," said Sam.

Bucky made a face. "I'm not having an orgy with Stark," he said. "I don't care how many others are involved."

Clint considered. "I don't know, think of how much experience he has. I bet he's got a few tricks up his sleeve. Or, well, up somewhere, anyway."

"Stop thinking about having sex with Stark," growled Bucky, wrapping an arm around Clint's waist and pulling him tight against his body.

Clint pressed a kiss to his lips. "Don't panic, I'm way too scared of Pepper to make a move on Tony."

"Oh, that makes me feel better," said Bucky, but he kissed Clint back until Steve pointedly cleared his throat.

They also hid any trace of Bruce. He had been intending to just hide in his lab, which would be in the area that was out of bounds to the camera crew, but somehow he ended up taking a quinjet and flying down to Tony's tower instead.

Clint found Natasha standing by the quinjet pad just after he'd left, and gave her a look. "I thought he was avoiding Tony?"

She just shrugged. "A man needs friends. A scientist needs colleagues."

"Ri-ight," said Clint, slowly. "And Bruce just decided that on his own?"

"Of course not," she said, turning away. "But that's why he has me."

By the time the crew arrived, the whole place looked a bit empty although someone else might just have described it as tidy. Steve and Natasha went out to meet them at the entrance gate while the rest of them all hung out in the communal lounge, trying to look relaxed and casual and not like they were running all through all the things they didn't want broadcast and hoping like hell they'd hidden away all trace of them.

As they waited, Bucky became increasingly tense, shoulders hunching over in a way Clint recognised from his first week or two at the base. He pressed a finger to his print and felt the anxiety starting to build.

"Hey, Buck," he said and then, when Bucky looked up, made a face at him.

Bucky stared at him. "You're an actual five year old."

"Yeah," agreed Clint, and crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out.

"Man, you're so lucky to have him as a soulmate," said Rhodey.

"Isn't he just?" said Clint. He puffed out his cheeks and raised his eyebrows as high as he could.

Bucky let out a groan and put his face in his hands. "God, just...stop."

Sam patted his shoulder. "You still sure you don't want him to start sleeping with Tony?"

"I'm beginning to think it might be for the best," said Bucky, looking up. Clint gave him his best shocked-and-betrayed face, and got an eye roll.

"Speaking as Tony's best friend," said Rhodey, "it's never for the best to sleep with him."

Everyone turned to look at him and he raised his hands. "Oh no, I haven't-"

"Sure, you haven't," drawled Clint.

"We believe you," said Sam with an earnest nod.

Rhodey let out a sigh. "Damnit, that one's not gonna die."

"It seems pretty unlikely," said Wanda.

Steve and Natasha brought in the documentary guys at that point. Clint pressed a finger to his print as everyone else turned to greet them and was relieved to feel that Bucky's mental state was a lot calmer than it had been.

"Hi everyone," said the presenter. "I'm Anna. Thanks so much for taking the time for this." She sounded so excited that for a moment Clint was worried she was going to end up bouncing. "This is my cameraman, Libby, and Deacon is my sound guy. We're going to try and be as unobtrusive as possible, just pretend we're not here, if you can."

"I'm sure it'll be a joy to have you here," said Steve, smiling at her, then stepping just behind her so that she wouldn't see him glaring at everyone with a look that made it clear he'd heard at least part of the conversation they'd been having and wanted to make sure there wasn't a repeat of it until the crew were off the grounds.

Anna laughed. “Oh, you don't have to pretend you're happy about this. No one sane likes having a group of strangers wandering around filming them and asking intrusive questions.”

Okay, Clint liked her. 

“We've been fully briefed on where and what we're allowed to stick our noses into,” she continued, “but I'm aware there's stuff that isn't an official secret that you might not want on TV, or even details about stuff that people already know that you don't want to go into. If we ask any questions, or look like we're focusing on something like that, just tell us and we'll back right off, okay?” She was looking at Clint as she said that, and he had a feeling he knew what she was referring to.

“Just so you know, me and Bucky isn't one of those things,” he said, taking Bucky's hand. There had been a long team meeting in which they decided exactly what they wanted to highlight for this documentary, and 'Clint and Bucky being adorable' had been pretty much top of the list. They were all hoping it would distract from just how much other stuff they wanted to hide away.

“We're done hiding,” agreed Bucky. “Whatever you want to ask is probably fine.”

“Oh,” said Anna, her eyes going wide. She looked as if she were restraining herself from jumping about with joy. “That's- right. Awesome, we can- Yes.”

Steve stepped in before she could have some kind of glee-related meltdown. “We thought you could spend the morning being shown around the living quarters and spending some time with each of us, then we've got a team training session after lunch. Usually we do those outside or in the gym, but I've adapted it to be in here today, and then. Well, Friday night is always movie night, if you want to stay for that.”

“That all sounds excellent,” said Anna. “We really just want to be able to show the public what it's like to be an Avenger, at the same time as going back over the history of the team.”

“Okay,” said Steve. “I'll take you around the communal areas first to give you an idea of the lay-out, then.” He glanced at the others. “You can all wander off for now, but stay up here.”

Natasha was the first to disappear, disappearing off in the direction of the gym. Vision just turned and walked through the wall behind him, which was kinda cheating.

“ _Call of Duty_?” Clint asked Bucky, standing up and stretching.

Bucky looked twitchy again and Clint had a feeling he was going to spend the whole day in a state of mild anxiety. Clint had tried to combat that with some really intense fucking that morning, but it didn't seem to have done as much good as he'd hoped.

Bucky's eyes rested on Clint's stomach, where his shirt had ridden up as he stretched. “I guess,” he said, in a tone that would usually have got Clint dragging him back to their rooms for round two, but that was pretty much off the cards while a camera crew were wandering about.

“Well, we can't go outside to shoot, so it's that or the gym,” said Clint, because those were the three main things they did when Bucky was feeling restless.

Bucky considered. “Sparring would be good.”

Sparring turned out to be an excellent idea. Once they'd been at it a while, Clint had completely forgotten about the camera crew wandering around and he was willing to bet Bucky had too, if the focused expression he had as he drove an upper cut at Clint's face and then swept his feet out from under him as he dodged back was anything to go by.

Natasha was in the gym as well, running through her own exercises, but she seemed pretty content to ignore them.

"You know, you could at least try staying up," said Bucky as Clint rolled to his feet for the sixth time.

"Fuck you," said Clint. "I'm gonna get you on your back, just wait."

"I have been waiting," said Bucky, blocking Clint's blow and twisting to grab at his arm in retaliation. Clint was too quick, darting back out of the way.

"You weren't complaining about me being on my back last night," he said, which distracted Bucky just enough for Clint to land a couple of blows and a kick.

"Too much information," called Natasha.

Clint grabbed for Bucky's metal arm, which became a liability for him when they were sparring because he spent the whole time worrying he was going to hurt Clint with it. Bucky ducked under the blow Clint sent at his head, then pulled on his arm to put him off balance, but not hard enough. Clint stood firm, resisting for just long enough for Bucky to put more strength into it, then abruptly let go, making Bucky stumble backwards. A swift kick was all it took to get him completely off his feet.

"Oh yes!" said Clint, raising his arms. "I am victorious."

Bucky snorted, raising himself up on his elbows. "One drop out of seven does not make you victorious."

Clint shrugged, rolling his shoulders out. "Come on, then. Bring it."

Bucky got up and they set back into it, Bucky moving faster and hitting harder now, just enough to make Clint need to concentrate fully and leave the banter out of it.

He was vaguely aware of Steve and the camera crew coming in and talking to Natasha, but he didn't let that distract his focus. Bucky was coming at him with a furious flurry of blows that Clint was barely able to block, so he flung himself to the side and did a neat roll, coming up already moving into a kick that Bucky took the full force of but didn't go down to, instead twisting around to face Clint again and throwing another punch.

"Wow," Clint heard someone say, off to one side, just as Bucky got the upper hand and managed to tip Clint over on his back. Clint rolled and grabbed for his ankle, yanking to bring him down as well.

"Fucker," muttered Bucky.

Clint laughed, breathlessly. "You love it."

"Can we film you?" asked Anna, and Clint turned his head to see her and her crew watching them. Steve seemed to have taken the opportunity to disappear, leaving them in Natasha's care.

Clint sat up and glanced at Bucky, who was already back on his feet. He got a shrug in response.

"Sure, why not?" said Clint, standing up. "That's what you're here for, right? Filming our everyday activities?"

"You do this every day?" asked Anna, as Libby turned her camera on.

"Pretty much," said Clint. "Got to keep our skills up, right?" He nodded at Bucky to show he was ready.

If having the camera on them made Bucky self-conscious at all, he didn't show it. He came at Clint just as hard and fast as if there were no one else there, although that was never as hard and fast as Clint knew he could be. He always held back when he was fighting Clint, which Clint was never sure whether he should be grateful for or irritated by.

Of course, it wasn't as if Clint didn't hold back as well, he thought as he was thrown onto his back again. He'd had the chance to distract Bucky by yanking at his hair but hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. He liked Bucky's hair too much to do anything that might end with him realising how impractical it was for fighting and cutting it.

"It's pretty violent, isn't it?" asked Anna as Clint got back up.

Bucky snorted. "If you think this is bad, you should see these two at it," he said, gesturing at Clint and Natasha. "Me and Clint are pretty nice to each other, considering."

"Wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face," said Clint, grinning at him and getting an eye-roll.

"I've known Clint far too long to be nice to him," said Natasha. She gave Clint a look. "What about it? Want me to tag in?"

Clint grinned and gestured at her. "Come on, then."

Bucky stepped back out of the way as Natasha came for him, and Clint settled into the routine of trying to fight the deadliest woman he knew. Bucky was right that he and Natasha were far more vicious with each other. He guessed it came of practice and knowing exactly where the other's limits were and, you know, neither of them being super-powered in any way.

They sparred for about fifteen minutes, with Clint doing his best to keep up despite already having spent over an hour going up against a super-soldier. He couldn't afford to look weak on camera, after all.

Bucky stood back at the edge of the mats with his arms crossed, watching with the intense expression that meant Clint was going to get a critique later. He managed to get Natasha down for a split second, then when she rolled back up, he darted his eyes in Bucky's direction.

She gave him a tiny nod and they face off again, Clint turning so that his back was to Bucky. She threw herself at him and he put his hands out, interlinked, for her to leap onto, then threw her in Bucky's direction.

"Shit," he heard Bucky mutter as he realised he had Black Widow coming down on him from above. Clint spun around, ducked low, and went for his legs.

Bucky tried to fend Natasha off with his metal arm, which meant he was too distracted to stop Clint bowling him over and then sitting firmly on his legs, pinning them down. Natasha didn't make the mistake of grabbing for Bucky's metal arm, instead she caught him around the neck and pressed his chest down against the mat.

"Fucking assholes," said Bucky, going limp in surender.

Natasha tutted as she got up. "You should be ready for anything."

"Getting complacent is a good way to get dead," added Clint, relaxing his grip and sitting back.  
Bucky kicked his legs, sending Clint onto his back and then rolled over to land on top of him, holding him down with his whole body.

"Now who's complacent?” he asked, his face hovering only a few inches from Clint's.

"I'm always kinda complacent," said Clint then added, in an undertone, "Cameras," in case Bucky had forgotten that they were being watched.

"Cameras we're meant to be adorable in front of," Bucky reminded him, then leaned in and kissed him.

Well, okay, that worked. Clint could definitely get behind that.

He heard a faint noise of exasperation from Natasha, which he ignored in favour of relaxing into Bucky's grip and resting his hands on the small of his back, pressing him closer.

"I guess that's the end of the sparring," said Natasha to the camera crew. "Shall I show you around the rest of the equipment we've got here?"

Clint let his head rest on the mat and grinned up at Bucky, who just smirked back at him. "Seems like you got over your nerves," he said quietly, as the crew moved away.

"Yeah," said Bucky. "I remembered that I'm the god-damned Winter Soldier, and letting a stupid thing like a camera crew get me wound up was fucking bullshit."

"Okay, that's very true," said Clint, and couldn't keep from giving him another kiss. "C'mon, time for a shower."

Bucky nodded and sat back, moving off Clint. "And _Call of Duty_ , cuz as much as I want you to take you to bed right now, I reckon Steve'll get all pissy if I do."

Clint sat up, stretching out his back. "What do you think my chances of getting to the range today are?"

Bucky shrugged. "When they're interviewing the others, maybe?" He held a hand out to help Clint up.

Clint sighed as he took it. "This is going to be a really annoying day."

"Yup," agreed Bucky.

****

Clint might usually lose when they sparred but he generally won when they played computer games. He was most of the way to kicking Bucky's ass at _Call of Duty_ when there was a knock on the door.

He and Bucky hit pause and exchanged resigned looks.

"Come in!" Clint called, doing a final glance around to make sure they hadn't accidentally left anything out that would make Erika yell at them.

Rhodey showed the crew in, then gave Clint a smile. "Tag, you're it," he said, and slipped out.

Clint glanced at Anna, who had the grace to look slightly awkward. Libby, on the other hand, was already slowly panning her camera around the room. She lingered for a moment on the Twelve Months Of Raccoons calendar hanging on the wall and the thick crosses marking each day off.

"If there's anything you don't want us to film, just say," said Anna.

Clint shrugged. "We've got no secrets. Well, no secrets that we haven't already hidden away where you won't find them."

Bucky threw his controller onto the table. "Doesn't mean we want you going digging, trying to find them."

"No, no, of course not," said Anna, as Deacon wandered around her to hold the mic over Clint and Bucky's heads. "What we've done with the others is to have a look around, ask any questions that come up, just have a bit of a chat, really. Nice and informal. If there's anything you don't want us looking at, just say and we'll cut that bit out, okay?"

"Okay," said Clint. He glanced over at Bucky, who was giving Anna a glare that only rated a 3 on the belligerent scale. He reached out and took his hand, which lowered it to 0.5, then gave Anna a grin. "Go for it."

****

"But perhaps the biggest surprise that awaited us when we got to the Avengers Base," said Anna's voice as various clips of Clint and Bucky ran in the background, "was the openness with which Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes talked about their relationship. Given the secrecy they maintained after activating, and even after the fact that Clint had activated had become common knowledge, they seemed only too happy to talk about the details.”

The camera was trained on Clint and Bucky, sitting on their sofa with their hands linked together. "It was kinda stupid, really," Clint said. "But then, if you ask Natasha, most of the main events in my life are kinda stupid."

"That's cuz you're kinda stupid," said Bucky.

Clint rolled his eyes. "You and Nat are going to give me low self-esteem, you know." Bucky just snorted as Clint turned back to the camera. "I was on the sofa and he helped me up."

"He was injured, he wasn't just being lazy," interjected Bucky.

"I was kinda being lazy,” said Clint. “Anyway, he grabbed my arm, I activated halfway through getting up, lost my balance and fell on him."

"Because you're a klutzy moron," said Bucky.

Clint just shrugged. "I'm the klutzy moron you're linked to," he said.

"Yeah," said Bucky, not looking sad about that at all.

The picture changed to show Natasha, sat on the edge of her bed. "It was ridiculous," she said. "Barnes had been here nearly a whole month and he and Clint had hung out together a bunch of times. When they activated, we were more surprised that they hadn't touched a lot earlier than that they were soulmates. I mean, have you seen them together? It's pretty sickening."

There was a brief clip of Clint and Bucky on the gym mat together, Bucky dipping his head to kiss Clint.

“I was extremely pleased for Bucky,” said Steve, leaning back against one of the kitchen counters with his arms crossed. “Of course I was. I think we both figured that his soulmate had been someone back in the forties and he'd missed them. I thought it was another thing that Hydra had taken from him. It's great that, despite everything, he still gets that.” He paused, and then added. “Even if being around Barton does just encourage them both to be wise-ass punks.”

There was a clip from the training scenario Steve had set up, which had been a version of Capture The Flag modified to be played inside their quarters without any major structural damage. Bucky and Clint had been on the same team, which Steve later admitted had been a mistake, even with the goal of increasing their opportunities to look adorable together. In the clip, Steve jogged along a corridor clutching the blue team flag and was suddenly, abruptly, brought crashing to the ground. A pan of the camera showed Bucky crouched around a corner, still holding the string he'd raised to trip Steve. Steve rolled on his side and started to pull himself back up to face him when an arrow landed on his shoulder, collapsing into putty and sticking him firmly to floor as Bucky grabbed the flag from his hands with a triumphant laugh while Steve pulled at the sticky goop with a disgusted look.

They'd filmed Wanda's interview in the big chair she had in front of her window for reading in.

“They are good for each other,” she said. “And it's good for the team, I think. Having soulmates amongst us makes it feel more like a family, I suppose. It's good to have links that aren't forged in combat.”

“I was off on a mission, so I missed the whole thing,” said Rhodey, sat on his perfectly-made bed. “I hadn't even met Bucky. I just came back and was told, 'oh, by the way, the Winter Soldier is Clint's soulmate'. Given that I only knew the stuff he'd done when Hydra had its claws in him, it was pretty trippy.” He paused and considered that for a moment. “Makes perfect sense now I know him, of course. He and Clint fit ridiculously well. They spend all their time getting overly competitive on the range with pretty much any projectile weapon they can get their hands on, winding Steve up, and watching _Dog Cops_. Hard to beat that for true love.”

****

“That was pretty good, right?” said Clint, as Anna's narration wandered away from him and Bucky and into a history of the Avengers. “Nothing Erika's gonna lose her shit over?”

Sam shrugged. “As far as I can tell, Erika always finds something to lose her shit over.”

"We're trending," said Wanda, flicking down her phone. "Several times. Avengers is top of the list, then, uh, Captain America's Amazing Abs are just below that. Clint and Bucky are both bit further down."

Steve let out a long sigh as Sam gently patted his stomach.

"To be fair, they are pretty amazing," he said.

"And you kinda brought it on yourself," added Natasha. "You really shouldn't have taken your shirt off."

"I wouldn't have had to if Clint hadn't shot me with that gunk," said Steve.

"It wasn't gunk, it was putty," said Clint. "And you were the one who designed the training exercise."

"There are a lot of people posting the gif of you sprinting shirtless down the corridor," said Wanda. "Oh, it's been turned into a meme."

Steve stared blankly at her. "I don't know what that is."

"Probably for the best," said Sam. "What else are they saying? Does it seem like we made a dent in all the negativity?"

"Oh yeah," said Wanda. "We're getting a lot of love. People talking about Bucky and Clint, and what they'd do if their soulmate got kidnapped and agreeing a punch through the skull is pretty mild, considering.” She frowned. “This guy's impressed with how much training we do. Seems to have been under the impression that we just sat around doing nothing between fights."

"Man, that would be sweet," said Clint. "Just play computer games and eat junk food without losing any conditioning."

"You'd get bored," Natasha pointed out. "You get all weird and antsy when you haven't been to the range in a while, and fidgety when you haven't had a good work out."

Clint gave her a grin. "I bet I could get Bucky to give me a good work out every day."

"I was under the impression I already did," said Bucky.

"Okay, that's enough information," said Rhodey, standing up. "If we're saying this went well, I'm gonna go call Tony and get my 'I told you so' in. He was convinced one of us was going to mess up."

"Tony just has no confidence in us," said Clint. "I'm hurt. Wounded, even."

"It's almost like he's met us," added Natasha.

****

Getting told that their PR had massively improved was one thing, but it was quite another to go to New York for the five year anniversary and be greeted by cheering crowds. They all stood on the steps of the city hall and waved, while Clint tried not to feel like a total fraud.

The fifth anniversary of the Avengers was also the fifth anniversary of the Battle of New York, and of Clint being used as a puppet to murder a bunch of people. There was no way he deserved a cheering crowd for that part of his history.

"You're not enjoying this," said Bucky close to his ear, as Steve started to give a speech.

Clint shook his head, but kept a smile on for the cameras. "Five years ago, I was responsible for the deaths of a whole bunch of SHIELD agents and instrumental in the destruction of a large chunk of the city."

"That wasn't you," said Bucky. "If you won't let me blame myself for taking out the base a few months ago, you can't blame yourself for that."

"Logically, I know that," said Clint. "Just, you know. Logic doesn't make much impact with this stuff."

"Yeah," agreed Bucky, softly. After a moment, his hand took Clint's. Clint flinched, then abruptly remembered that they were allowed to do this in public now. He squeezed Bucky's hand and leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder, as Steve rambled on about how grateful the Avengers were for the support of New York and all that jazz.

Clint let his gaze wander out over the crowd, over all the people who thought the Avengers were worth turning out to stare at. A few of them had signs proclaiming their enthusiasm for the team in general, individual members or, in at least one case, Steve's abs.

His attention was caught by a flicker of light and he glanced over to the edge of the crowd, where a guy in a hat was leaning against a wall, twiddling a tiny mirror in his hand. He lifted his head just long enough for Clint to recognise him as Barney, then reached out and took the hand of the woman standing next to him.

She was on the unhealthy side of skinny and had dark skin and darker hair, which had been cut short in a messy style that Clint recognised as 'shorn off by someone who hates you'. She had her head held high with no attempt to hide her features. After a pause, both she and Barney gave the sign language for _thank you_ , then they turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"I thought he said he wasn't coming back to this country once we let him go," said Bucky, very quietly.

Clint shook his head. "He said he wouldn't get caught in this country," he corrected. "That's pretty much all we can hope for."

Bucky shook his head slowly. "Bartons," he muttered.

Clint kept his grin to himself.

Afterwards, there was a gala. Clint headed straight for the bar, as was his tradition, but Bucky caught his hand. "Come dance with me.”

Clint glanced over at the dance floor, which was pretty empty at this stage of the night. "You don't want to get a drink first?"

"Are you kidding?" asked Bucky. "I spent the whole of the last gala wishing I could dance with you. I'm not waiting now that I can."

There was a look in his eyes that made Clint suspect that he was going to spend a large chunk of the evening dancing. Well, okay, he could live with that if it meant having Bucky in his arms.

"I'm leading," he said, turning his steps towards the dance floor.

"Sure," said Bucky, way too easily. "To start with."

They were one of the first couples on the dance floor, but Clint didn't waste time on feeling self-conscious. He took Bucky in his arms and started on a waltz, going easy until he'd got a feel for how well Bucky could keep up. It turned out to be pretty damn well, so Clint took it up a notch, throwing some fancy footwork in.

"You're good at this," said Bucky, sounding more surprised than Clint felt was really fair.

"It's almost like I've had way too much practice with elderly dowagers," said Clint, throwing in a spin that Bucky stepped into as if he'd always known it was coming.

Bucky grinned at him. "I think these galas are going to be a lot more fun for you from here on out."

Clint pulled him in close enough to kiss him. "Given I'm now allowed to do that anywhere I want, I reckon everything's going to be more fun."

"Makes you wonder why we didn't come out months ago," said Bucky, with an innocent look.

"Oh, for-" said Clint. "Okay, fine. For that, you're getting dipped."

"Oh no, hell no, the Winter Soldier does not get-"

Clint dipped him and despite his protests, Bucky went with it, glaring up at Clint as he did so.

"You just wait until it's my turn to lead," he growled.

Clint just grinned at him because, frankly, as long as they were dancing together, he didn't care which of them led.


End file.
